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Collected b 1 



Collected by 
Carolyn Wells 


* % X: '. : :*: 

v . 

Charles Scribners Sons 



Published, September, 1906 


AWHIMSEY is defined by the dictionaries as 
a whim, a freak, a capricious notion, an 
odd device. Though of trifling value as 
literary efforts, verbal whimseys often display such 
ingenuity and patience of labor that they command, 
perforce, a certain admiration. 

Many of the best and most learned of writers 
have amused themselves in making these oddities, 
but as modern times offer little leisure for such 
work, the best examples are oftenest found among 
the works of the earlier authors. 

A literary whimsey is not merely the expression 
of a whimsical thought or fancy, but an odd or 
capricious form of that expression. It is whimseys 
of manner not matter that are offered in this col- 





Conjugal Conjugations . . A . W. Bellaw .... 3 

Love's Moods and Senses . . Anonymous .... 5 

An Original L6Ve Story . . Anonymous .... 7 

"Queries" W.Stanford .... 8 

The Ballad of Ameighlia Mair- 

eigh Anonymous .... 9 

The Pearl of Palencia . . . Waller Parke . . . . n 

Ough * . . Anonymous .... 13 

O-U-G-H. A Fresh Hack at 

an Old Knot Charles Battell Loomis . 14 

Ow Anonymous .... 15 

Adioux Among the Sioux . . Anonymous . . . . 16 

Job Anonymous . . . . 16 

The Cow A Bovinity . . . Anonymous . . . . 17 

Half Hours with the Classics . H.J.DcBurgh ... 17 

Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe . H.C.Bunner ... 19 


The Wine Glass .... Proverbs xxiii, 29-32 . 21 

Song of the Decanter . . . Anonymous .... 22 

The Flagon Pannard 23 

The Glass Pannard 24 

Bait of the Average Fisherman . H . C. Dodge .... 25 

A Type of Beauty .... Anonymous .... 26 

TheStegomyia Anonymous .... 27 

Little Boys take Warning . . Anonymous .... 28 

The Tale of a Mouse . . . Lewis Carroll ... 29 

The Mice Lewis Carroll .... 30 

The Old Line Fence . . . A.W. ellaw ... 31 

Jones's Ride McLandburgh Wilson . 34 

On the Street A nonymous .... 35 

Avoirdupois Anonymous .... 36 

A Cubic Triolet Anonymous .... 36 


Con tents 



The Siege of Belgrade . . . Anonymous .... 37 

A, B, C C. S. Calverley ... 38 

Monorhymed Alphabet . . Anonymous .... 39 

Monorhymed Alphabet . . Mortimer Collins ... 40 

Memorandums Charles E. Carryl . . 41 

An Animal Alphabet . . . Anonymous .... 42 

An Animal Alphabet . . . Edward Lear .... 43 


Dirge Anonymous .... 47 

ODV Anonymous .... 48 

An Alphabetical Wooing . . Anonymous .... 51 

OIC Anonymous .... 52 

The Zealless Xylographer . . Mary M apes Dodge . . 52 

A Geographical Love Song . Anonymous .... 53 

The Sunday Fisherman . . A . W. Bellaw .... 54 

An Arab and his Donkey . . Anonymous .... 57 

A Song of the & Anonymous .... 58 

Lovelilts Anonymous .... 60 

Romantic Recollections . . Henry S.Leigh . . .61 


The Russo-Turkish War . . A nonymous .... 63 

The Fall of Eve Anonymous .... 63 

The Approach of Evening . . Anonymous .... 64 

Incontrovertible Facts . . . Anonymous .... 64 

Philosophy Anonymous .... 65 

The Fate of Nassan . . . Anonymous .... 65 

Alphabet Verse Anonymous .... 66 


My Madeline Anonymous .... 67 

Bloom, Beauteous Blossoms . Sir Patrick Fells ... 68 



Susan Simpson Anonymous .... 69 

The Cushat Alexander Montgomery . 70 

Qua^ritur Rudyard Kipling . . .71 

Procuratores Anonymous .... 72 


Acrostic Sir John Davies ... 73 

Acrostic Charles Lamb . . 73 

Acrostic Bogart 74 

Acrostic Lewis Carroll .... 75 

An Acrostic -\nonynwus .... 75 

An Acrostic Lewis Carroll . . . . 76 

Double A( r>stir .... Anonymous .... 77 

Peculiar Acrostic A Valentine FdgarA.Poc . ... 77 

Particular Acrostic .... Thomas Jordan ... 78 


Enigma OQ the Letter H . . Catherine Fanshawe . . 79 
Travesty of Mi^s I-'unshuwr'^ 

Enigma Horace Mayhew ... So 

The Letter H's Protrst to the 

Cockneys Mr. Skeat 81 

Enigma on the Letter! . . . Catherine Fanshawe . . 81 

An Unsolved Enigma . . . Anna Seacard . ... 82 

An Unsolved Enigma . . . A nonymous .... 83 

An Unsolved Enigma . . . . 1 nonymous .... 83 

Old Riddle A nonymous .... 84 

A Famous Riddle . . . . A nonymous .... 85 

Old Riddle Anonymous .... 88 

Enigma on Cod A nonymous .... 89 

Charade: Campbell . . . \Vinthrop Mackworth 

Praed 89 


A Telegram Anagrammatised . Dr. John Abernethy . . 91 


Co ntents 


Palindromes H. Campkin . 

Palindrome Lines .... Anonymous 


Lady Moon Christina G. Rossetti 

Days in the Months . . . Anonymous 

The Perfect Greyhound . . Old Rhyme . . . 

The Cuckoo Old Rhyme . . . 

Two Apple-Howling Songs 

Surre , Devonshire . . . Anonymous 

Days of Birth Old Rhyme . . . 

Prognostications .... Anonymous 

Hours of Sleep Anonymous 

Old Adage Anonymous 

Old Saw Anonymous 

French Adage Anonymous 

A Caution Anonymous 

Cautions Hugh Rhodes 

Philosophic Advice .... Anonymous 

The Right Sort of a Fellow . . Anonymous 

A Man of Words .... Anonymous 

Sheridan's Calendar . . . Anonymous . . 

A Rule of Three .... Wallace Rice . . . 

Reasons for Drinking . . . Dr. Henry Aldrich 

A Bacchanalian Toast . . . Robert Herrick . . 


The Hundred Best Books . . Mostyn T. Pigott .106 

A Rhyme for Musicians . . E. Lemke 109 

'Tis Ever Thus R. K. Munkittrick . .no 

Indian Tribes Anonymous . . . .in 

Signs of Rain Edward Jenner . . .112 

Similes Anonymous . . . . 113 


A Nursery Rhyme .... Anonymous . . . .114 

London Bells Anonymous . . . .115 

The Court of Aldermen at Fish- 
mongers' Hall .... Anonymous . . . .117 

Earth Anonymous . . . .118 

The Joys of Marriage . . . Charles Cotton . . .119 

A New- Year's Gift for Shrews . Anonymous . . . .120 

One Week Carolyn Wells . . .120 


The Twiner Dr.Wallis . . . .122 

Un Cordier Attain Chartier . . .122 

The Thatcher Anonymous . . . .123 

Peter Piper Anonymous . . . .123 

Simple English Ray Clarke Rose . . . 124 

\VhatHiawathaProbablyDid. Anonymous .... 124 


Under the Trees .... C.S.Calverley . . .125 
The Ruling Power .... Thomas Hood . . .126 
The Musical Ass .... TomasodeYriarte . .127 
The Roman Nose .... Merrit England . . .128 
To Mrs. Thrale on Her Thirty- 
fifth Birthday Boswell 128 

A Rhyme for Tipperary . . Dr. Fitzgerald . . .129 

The Doneraile Litany . . . Patrick O' Kelly . . .132 

My Manx Minx Orlando Thomas Dobbin 135 

Five Wines Robert Herrick . . .137 

Lines on Rose Charles Battell Loomis . 138 


Bowled Anonymous . . . .140 

A Nocturnal Sketch . . . Thomas Hood . . .140 

The Double Knock .... Thomas Hood . . .142 




The Future of the Classics . . Anonymous .... 143 

JocosaLyra Austin Dobson . . . 145 

A Trip to Paris James Smith .... 146 

A Ferry Tale Charles E. Carryl . .149 

Song for a Cracked Voice . . Wallace Irwin . . .150 


Death of Little Nell . . . Charles Dickens . . .152 

Song of the Kettle .... Charles Dickens . . .154 


Villanelle Walter W. Sleat . . . 155 

The Rondeau Austin Dobson . . .156 

The Roundel A C \ Swinburne . . .156 

Yillunelleof Things Amusing . Gelett Burgess . . . 157 

Tema Con Variazioni . . . Leuns Carroll . . . .158 

The Triolet W.E.Henley . . .159 

Triolet Paul T.Gilbert . . .159 

A Pitcher of Mignonette . . H.C.Bunner . . .160 

The Triolet Austin Dobson . . .160 

Ballade W. E. Henley . . . .161 

Villanelle W.E.Henley . . . 162 

ARondelay Peter A. Motteux . .163 

Sonnet to Order H.C.Bunner . . .164 

Sonnet on the Sonnet . . . James Y. Gibson . . .164 

Sonnet to a Clam .... JohnG.Saxe. . . .165 

Rondeau Leigh Hunt . . . . 1 66 

Remember Judy 166 

The Wail of the "Personally 

Conducted" H.C.Bunner ... 167 


Out of Sight, Out of Mind . . BarnabyGooge . . .169 

Ad Mortem A nonymous . . . .170 

Nerve Thy Soul .... /I nonymous . . . .170 


Co ntents 



Life Anonymous . . . .172 

My Genevieve Anonymous . . . .174 

The Fate of the Glorious Devil Anonymous . . . - 175 

Echoes Lewis Carroll . . . .177 

Whatever is, is Right . . . Laman Blanchard . .178 


The Double-Faced Creed . . Anonymous . . . .179 

K<jui vocal Verses .... Anonymous . . . .179 

The Platform Anonymous . . . .180 

Panegyric on the Ladfti . . Anonymou* .... 181 

Ambiguous Lines .... Anonymous .... 182 


Echo John G. Saxe . . . .183 

Royalist Lines Anonymous .... 184 

Song Addison 185 


Very Felis-itous Green Kendrick . . .186 

^Estivation O. W. Holmes . . .187 

Ce M6me Vieux Coon . . . Anonymous . . . .188 
\\ildSportsintheEast. . . Anonymous .... 189 
To the Fair"Come-Outer" . Anonymous .... 190 

"Ich Bin Dein" Anonymous .... 192 

Macaronic Mother Goose . . Anonymous .... 193 

Jack and Jill. 

Little Bo-peep 

Little Jack Homer. 


Ye Carpette Knyghte . . . Lewis Carroll . . . .195 
The Carelesse Nurse Mayd . Thomas Hood . . .196 




A Border Ballad .... Captain Harry Graham . 196 

Villikens Richard Mans field . .198 

From Vivette's "Milkmaid" . Carolyn Wells . . . 199 
Triolets Ollendorffiens . . . J.K. Stephen .... 200 

Justice to Scotland .... Punch 201 

"Soldier, Rest!" .... Robert J. Burdette . . 202 


The Beauties of English Or- 
thography Anonymous .... 203 

The Briefless Barrister . . . John G. Saxe .... 205 

A Country Summer Pastoral . A nonymous .... 207 

Japanesque Oliver Her ford . . . 208 

To My Nose . ^ . . . Alfred A.Forrester . . 209 

(Alfred Croivquit) 

A Catalectic Monody ! . . . Cruikshank's Omnibus . 209 
Spelling Reform .... Anonymous . . . .210 


Optimism N. M 212 

The Original Lamb . . . Tid-bits 213 

The Little Star Anonymous .... 214 

A Piazza Tragedy .... Eugene Field . . . .215 

After Dilettante Concetti . . H.D.Traill . . . .216 

Israfiddlestrings .... Anonymous . . . .219 

Midsummer Madness . . . Anonymous ... . . 220 

Ballad of the Canal . . . . Phoebe Gary .... 222 

Poetry and the Poet . . . H. C. Bunner . . .223 

Whenceness of the Which . . Anonymous .... 224 

The Mighty Must .... W.S.Gilbert .... 225 

A Concord Love-Song . . . James Jeffrey Roche . . 226 

A Song of Sorrow .... Charles Battell Loomis . 227 

Waterloo Place H. Cholmondeley-Pennell 228 

All the Same in the End . . Isaac Ross . . . .228 


Co n tent s 

A Appeal for Are to the Sex- 
tant of the Old Brick Meetin- 

ouse By a gasper . . . Anonymous .... 229 


The Cosmic Egg .... Anonymous .... 232 
Ode on the 4$oth Anniversary 

Celebration at Eton . . . J. K . Stephen . . . .233 

Nursery Gardening . N. M 234 

The Chemist to His Love . . Punch 235 

Zoology Punch 236 

A Billet-Doux 1 nonymous .... 238 


The Bells E. A.Poe 239 

The Cataract of Lodore . . Robert Southey . . .243 

What is a Woman Like? . . Anonymous .... 247 

The Kitchen Clock .... John Vance Cheney . . 248 
The Fisherman's Chant . . F. C. Burnand . . .251 

The Recruit Robert William Chambers 252 

No Thomas Hood . . . 254 

Lay of the Deserted Influenzaed H. Cholmondeley-Pennell 255 

Belagcholly Days .... Anonymous .... 256 
An Invitation to the Zoological 

Gardens Punch 257 


Short Musical Histories . . Anonymous .... 259 

Prevalent Poetry .... Anonymous .... 260 

Topographical Anonymous .... 261 

A Serious Love Spell . . . Anonymous .... 261 

Wilhdmj Robert}. Burdette . . 262 

Some Saintly Cities .... Ferdinand G. Christgau . 263 

Limericks Carolyn Wells . . .264 


Co n ten t s 

Limerick Cosmo M onkhouse 

Limerick Oliver Her ford 

Limerick Anonymous . . 

Limerick Gelett Burgess 

Limerick Anonymous . 

Limerick Anonymous . . 

Limerick Anonymous 

Limerick Edward Lear . 

Limerick W. S. Gilbert . . 

Limericks Anonymous 






maid, let me speak 
What I never yet spoke: 
You have made my heart squeak 

As it never yet squoke, 
And for sight of you, both my eyes ache as they 
ne'er before oak. 

With your voice my ears ring, 

And a sweeter ne'er rung, 
Like a bird's on the wing 

When at morn it has wung. 

And gladness to me it doth bring, such as never 
voice brung. 

My feelings I'd write, 

But they cannot be wrote, 
And who can indite 

What was never indote! 

And my love I hasten to plight the first that I 

* Logical effects of grammar, spelling, pronunciation, etc. 


$ ey Anthology 

' Yfes, ycu woul'l I choose, 

Whom I long ago chose, 
And my fond spirit sues 

As it never yet sose, 
And ever on you do I muse, as never man mose. 

The house where you bide 

Is a blessed abode; 
Sure, my hopes I can't hide, 
For they will not be hode, 

And no person living has sighed, as, darling, I've 

Your glances they shine 

As no others have shone, 
And all else I'd resign 

That a man could resone, 
And surely no other could pine as I lately have pone. 

And don't you forget 

You will ne'er be forgot, 
You never should fret 

As at times you have frot, 

I would chase all the cares that beset, if they ever 

For you I would weave 

Songs that never were wove, 
And deeds I'd achieve 

Which no man yet achove, 

And for me you never should grieve, as for you I 
have grove, 


Logical Whimseys 

I'm as worthy a catch 
As ever was caught. 
O, youPanswer I watch 

As a man never waught, 

And we'd make the most elegant match as ever was 

Let my longings not sink; 

I would die if they sunk. 
O, I ask you to think 

As you never have thunk, 

And our fortunes and lives let us link, as no lives 
could be lunk. 

A. W. Bellow. 


SALLY SALTER, she was a young lady who 

And her friend Charley Church was a preach- 
er who praught! 

Though his enemies called him a screecher who 

His heart when he saw her kept sinking and sunk, 
And his eye, meeting hers, began winking and wunk; 
While she in her turn fell to thinking, and thunk. 

He hastened to woo her, and sweetly he wooed, 
For his love grew until to a mountain it grewed, 
And what he was longing to do then he doed. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

In secret he wanted to speak, and he spoke, 

To seek with his lips what his heart long had soke; 

So he managed to let the truth leak, and it loke. 

He asked her to ride to the church, and they rode, 
They so sweetly did glide, that they both thought 

they glode, 
And they came to the place to be tied, and were 


Then, "homeward" he said, "let us drive" and 

they drove, 

And soon as they wished to arrive, they arrove; 
For whatever he couldn't contrive she controve. 

The kiss he was dying to steal, then he stole: 
At the feet where he wanted to kneel, then he knole, 
And said, "I feel better than ever I fole." 

So they to each other kept clinging, and clung; 
While time his swift circuit was winging, and wung; 
And this was the thing he was bringing, and brung: 

The man Sally^wanted to catch, and had caught 
That she wanted from others to snatch, and had 

Was the one that she now liked to scratch, and 

she scraught. 

And Charley's warm love began freezing and froze, 

While he took to teasing, and cruelly toze 

The girl he had wished to be squeezing and squoze. 


Logical Whimseys 

"Wretch!" he cried, when she threatened to leave 

him, and left, 

"How could you deceive me, as you have deceft?" 
And she answered, "I promised to cleave, and 

I've cleft!" 



HE struggled to kiss her. She struggled the 

To prevent him so bold and undaunted. 
But, as smitten by lightning, he heard her exclaim, 
"Avaunt, sir!" and off he avaunted. 

But when he returned, with a wild fiendish laugh, 
Showing clearly that he was affronted, 

And threaten'd by main force to carry her off, 
She cried "Don't!" and the poor fellow domed. 

When he meekly approached, and sat down at her 

Praying loudly, as before he had ranted, 
That she would forgive him, and try to be sweet, 

And said "Can't you!" the dear girl recanted. 

Then softly he whispered, "How could you do so? 

I certainly thought I was jilted; 
But come thou with me, to the parson we'll go; 

Say, wilt thou, my dear?" and she wilted. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


A BRED and born philologist is what I claim 
to be, 
But find that there are many things that 

greatly puzzle me. 
For instance, take a cricket ball; you buy it then 

it's bought, 
But if you take and shy it, is it right to say it's 

short ? 
A drummer is a man, we know, who has to do 

with drums, 
But I never met a plumber yet who had to do with 

A cheerful man who sells you hats would be a 

cheerful hatter; 

But is a serious man who sells you mats "a serious 
matter " ? 

You take your girl to Yarmouth, then you are a 
pair of trippers; 

If you slipped with her while skating, would you 
be a pair of slippers? 

If it freezes when it's frosty, is it squosty when 
you squeeze ? 

Would you have to buy a biograph to write biog- 
raphies ? 

A man is called a baker when to earn his bread 
he bakes; 

But do we call a Quaker by that name because 
he quakes ? 


Logical Whimseys 

But if you are a dealer, why, of course you have 

to deal, 
But you may be a peeler, though you never have 

to peel. 

A man who brews, as everybody knows, is called 

a brewer; 
But if your landlord sues you, would you say he 

is a sewer? 
A girl will change the color of the hair upon her 

It's strange; but, still, you'll find that though she 

dyed, she isn't dead. 
Would a pious man who fried a kipper be a holy 

A timid man who lies in bed is he "a fearful 


If with mud you find you're spattered from a pass- 
ing horse's hoof, 
And you use a bad expletive, would that be a 

"muddied oaf"? 

W. Stanford. 


MISS Amelia Mary Cholmondely, 
When in summer-time she rode, 
Did not look one whit less colmondley 
Than in winter when she slode. 


A IV him s ey A nt ho logy 

As became a farmer's daughter, 
Milk she to the market took; 

Mingled flour and eggs with waughter, 
And delicious tea-cakes book. 

By her blandishments the neighing 
Colts and bleating sheep were caught; 

And, they tell me, there's no seighing 
What a lot of ricks she thaught. 

At her orders farm-yard beauties 
Turkeys, geese, and hens were slain; 

From her purse, for weekly deauties, 
All her father's men were pain. 

Mary, too, was always present 

When the frisky lambs were shorn; 

And the chicks of many a phesent 
By her careful hands were rorn. 

'Spite of Mary's fond endeavour, 
Once her favorite lap-dog swam 

Far from land and sank foreavour, 
And her eyes with sorrow dam. 

Girl more kind or better-hearted 

Ne'er in all my life I saw; 
Scores of swains for Mary smearted, 

She was perfect, all agraw. 

Logical Whimseys 

Thus, when to Elisha Farquhar 
Hand and heart at last she gave, 

Though he was a billiard-marqahar, 
Happily with him she lave. 



NO maiden in Spain was more lovely to see 
Than sweet Donna A., only child of Don B., 
"The Pearl of Palencia." Two lovers she 

Don C. (who was good) and Don D. (who was 

'Twas C. she preferred, but she thought herself 


To mind her papa, whom she always had mound. 
He said, "Rich Don D. is a 'catch* to be caught: 
The prize you must snatch it is easily snaught." 
Thus, though she might feel just the same as she'd 

She now must conceal what she'd never con 


Not speak to her love, though he tenderly spoke, 
Nor seek the affection she'd hitherto soke. 
Don B. told Don C. he must leave, and he left. 
The blow made him grieve, and most deeply he 

But Love's sun will shine, and still brightly it 

When lovers combine as these lovers combone, 

A Whimsey Anthology 

In secret to meet as they secretly met, 

Stern parents they'll cheat as her father was chet. 

One night when the moon on "the rise" gently 


Don D. in surprise the two lovers surprose. 
His weapon he drew; and the moment 'twas 


His rival he slew; with a blow he was slawn. 
Prepared not to smite, and so suddenly smitten, 
He'd no time to fight, or of course he'd have fitten, 
His fate was to fall what a cropper he fell! 
A sight to appal. Donna A. it appel. 
Her hand, within reach, with an effort he reach'd, 
And this was the "last dying speech" that he 


"Dear maid, fare thee well! Be my slayer for- 

My hour, but too quick to arrive, hath arriven. 
Away from existence I slide" and he slid. 
"I die as my fathers have died" and he did. 
Oh, fearful to hear was the scream that she 


Her eyes did not beam as they'd hitherto bempt, 
But glared fit to freeze. The assassin they froze. 
She shrieked, "This I seize!"- 'twas a dagger 

she soze. 
"My loved one I lose through thy deed he is 

But had I to choose, thou wouldst never be 


Die, villain! Thy gold cannot gild up thy guilt. 
My will is to kill!" So the villain she kilt. 

[ 12] 

Logical Whimseys 

Then said, " Though my heart, doomed to break, 

is now broken, 

The vengeance I thirsted to slake I have sloken." 
So saying, she drank up a poisonous draught, 
Her queenly form shrank with a terrible shraft; 
On C.'s poor remains with a wild fling 'twas 

Her spirit, which long'd to take wing, then took 


Her pa "such a turn" the catastrophe gave 
Did grieve till he grove himself into his grave. 
So there was an end lack-a-day! woe is me! 
Of sweet Donna A. and Dons B., C., and D. 

Walter Parke. 


AS a farmer was goinp to plough, 
He met a man driving a cough; 
They had words which led to a rough, 
And the farmer was struck on his brough. 

One day when the weather was rough, 

An old lady went for some snough, 

Which she thoughtlessly placed in her mough, 

And it got scattered all over her cough. 

While a baker was kneading his dough, 
A weight fell down on his tough, 
When he suddenly exclaimed ough! 
Because it had hurt him sough. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

There was a hole in the hedge to get through, 
It was made by no one knew whough; 
In getting through a boy lost his shough, 
And was quite at a loss what to dough. 

A poor old man had a bad cough, 
To a doctor he straight went ough, 
The doctor did nothing but scough, 
And said it was all fancy, his cough. 




A Fresh Hack at an Old Knot 

'M taught P-1-o-u-g-h 

S'all be pronounce "plow." 
"Zat's easy w'en you know," I say, 
"Mon Anglais, I'll get through!" 

My teacher say zat in zat case, 

O-u-g-h is" oo." 
An zen I laugh and say to him, 

"Zees Anglais make me cough." 

He say "Not 'coo,' but in zat word, 

O-u-g-h is 4 off,'" 
Oh, Sacre bleu\ such varied sounds 

Of words makes my hiccough! 

* By permission of Harper & Brothers. 

Logical Whimseys 

He say, "Again mon frien' ees wrong; 

O-u-g-h is 'up* 
In hiccough." Zen I cry, "No more, 

You make my t'roat feel rough." 

"Non, non!" he cry, "you are not right; 

O-u-g-h is'uff." 5 
I say, "I try to spik your words, 

I cannot spik zem though!" 

"In time you'll learn, but now you're wrong! 

O-u-g-h is 'owe.'" 
"I'll try no more, I s'all go mad, 

Til drown me in ze lough!" 

" But ere you drown yourself," said he, 

"O-u-g-h is'ock" 
He taught no more, I held him fast, 

And killed him wiz a rough. 

Charles Battell Loomis. 


NOW, boys," the farmer said, "there'll be a 

If you upon the river go and row 
When we've so much to do. The Chester sow 

Has rooted up the lawn; therein go sow 
Some clover-seed; then help clear out the mow. 
In which to put the hay that we shall mow 


A Whimsey Anthology 

To-morrow morn; when that is done I 'low 
You may, if then the sun is not too low, 
Go hunt and fish/' So to our work we bow; 
Which done, we're off, with arrows, rod, and 



NOW trouble brious among the Sioux, 
Because the whites their rights abioux. 
The sky is red with battle hioux; 
Big Injun, squaw, and young pappioux 
Are on the war-path by the slioux; 
They're filling up with fiery bioux, 
They swear their lands they will not lioux. 




UR hired man named Job 
Has got a pleasant job, 
The meadow grass to mow 
And stow it in the mow. 

At work he takes the lead; 
He does not fear cold lead, 
Nor is he moved to tears 
When he his clothing tears! 

Logical Whimseys 

A book that he had read; 

He handed me to read; 

He spends much time in reading 

When at his home in Reading. 




gentle cau, 
Contented frau, 

Inert, exempt from violence. 
We will allau 

That you know hau 
To chew your cud in siolence. 



AH, those hours when by-gone sages 
Led our thoughts through Learning's ways, 
When the wit of sunnier ages, 

Called once more to Earth the days 
When rang through Athens* vine-hung lanes 
Thy wild, wild laugh, Aristophanes! 

Pensive through the land of Lotus, 

Sauntered we by Nilus' side; 
Garrulous old Herodotus 

Still our mentor, still our guide, 
Prating of the mystic bliss 
Of Isis and of Osiris. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

All the learn J d ones trooped before us, 
All the wise of Hellas' land, 

Down from mythic Pythagoras, 
To the hemlock drinker grand. 

Dark the hour that closed the gates 

Of gloomy Dis on thee, Socrates. 

Ah, those hours of tend'rest study, 

When Electra's poet told 
Of Love's cheek once warm and ruddy, 

Pale with grief, with death chill cold! 
Sobbing low like summer tides 
Flow thy verses, Euripides! 

High our hearts beat when Cicero 
Shook the Capitolian dome; 

How we shuddered, watching Nero 
'Mid the glare of blazing Rome! 

How those records still affright us 

On thy gloomy page, Tacitus! 

Back to youth I seem to glide, as 
I recall those by-gone scenes, 

When we conned o'er Thucydides, 
Or recited Demosthenes. 


Ancient sages, pardon these 
Somewhat doubtful quantities. 

H. J. DeBurgh. 


Logical Whimseys 



I HAVE a bookcase, which is what 
Many much better men have not. 
There are no books inside, for books, 
I am afraid, might spoil its looks. 
But I've three busts, all second-hand, 
Upon the top. You understand 
I could not put them underneath 
Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. 


Shake was a dramatist of note; 
He lived by writing things to quote, 
He long ago put on his shroud: 
Some of his works are rather loud. 
His bald-spot's dusty, I suppose. 
I know there's dust upon his nose.- 
I'll have to give each nose a sheath 
Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe.. 


Mulleary's line was quite the same; 
He has more hair, but far less fame. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

I would not from that fame retrench- 
But he is foreign, being French. 
Yet high his haughty head he heaves, 
The only one done up in leaves, 
They're rather limited on wreath 
Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. 


Go-ethe wrote in the German tongue: 
He must have learned it very young. 
His nose is quite a butt for scoff, 
Although an inch of it is off. 
He did quite nicely for the Dutch; 
But here he doesn't count for much. 
They all are off their native heath 
Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. 

They sit there, on their chests, as bland 

As if they were not second-hand. 

I do not know of what they think, 

Nor why they never frown or wink. 

But why from smiling they refrain 

I think I clearly can explain: 

They none of them could show much teeth 

Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe. 

H. C. Bunner. 



Who hath woe ? Who hath sorrow ? Who 

hath contentions ? Who hath wounds 

without cause? Who hath redness 

of eyes? They that tarry long 

at the wine! They that 

go to seek mixed wine! 

Look not thou upon the 

wine when it is red, 

when it giveth 

its color 

in the 


when it 

moveth itself 



the last it 

biteth like a serpent 
and stingeth like an adder! 

(Proverbs xxiii, 29-32.) 


A W him s ey Anthology 


There was an old decan- 
ter, and its mouth was 
gaping wide; the 
rosy wine had 
ebbed away 
and left 
its crys- 
tal side: 
and the wind 
went humming 
up and 
down: the 
wind it blew, 
and through the 

hollow neck 
the wildest notes it 
blew. I placed it in the 
window, where the blast was 
blowing free, and fancied that its 
pale mouth sang the queerest strains to 
me. "They tell me puny conquerors! the 
Plague has slain his ten, and war his hundred 
thousand of the very best of men; but I" 'twas 
thus the Bottle spake " but I have conquered 
more than all your famous conquerors, so 
feared and famed of yore. Then come, ye 
youths and maidens all, come drink from 
out my cup, the beverage that dulls the 
brain and burns the spirits up; that puts 
to shame vour conquerors that slay their 
scores below; for this has deluged mil- 
lions with the lava tide of woe. Tho' 
in the path of battle darkest streams 
of blood may roll; yet while I killed 
the body, I have damn'd the very 
soul. The cholera, the plague, 
the sword, such ruin never wro't, 
as I in mirth or malice on the 
innocent have brought. And 
still I breathe upon them, and 
they shrink before my breath, 
and year by year my thousands 
tread the dusty way of death." 



Shaped Whimseys 


Que mon 

f 1 a c o n 

me semble bon! 

Sans lui 

I ' e n n u i 

me nuit, 

me suit; 

j e sens 

mes sens 


pes a n t s. 

Quand je le tiens, 

Dieux! que je suis bien! 

que son aspect est agreable! 

que je fais cas de ses divins presens! 

C'est de son sein fecond, c'est de ses heureux 

flancs que coule ce nectar si doux, si delectable, 

qui rend tous les esprits, tous les coeurs satisfaits! 

Cher objet de mes voeux, tu fais toute ma gloire. 

Tant que mon cceur vivra, de tes charmants bien- 

faits il saura conserver la fidele memoire. 



A W 'him s ey Anthology 


Nous ne pouvons rien trouver sur la terre 

qui soit si bon ni si beau que le verre. 

Du tendre amour berceau charmant, 

c'est toi, champetre fougere, 

c'est toi qui sers a faire 

Theureux instrument 

ou souvent petille, 

mousse, et brille 

le jus qui rend 

g a i , riant, 


Quelle douceur 

il porte au coeur 




Qu'on m'en donne 

vite et comme il faut 




qu'on m'en donne 

vite et comme il faut. 

L'on y voit sur ses flots 

cheris nager 1'allegresse et les ris. 



Shaped Whimseys 


This is the bait 
the fisher- 
men take, 

the fishermen take, the fisher- 
men take, when they start out the fish to 
wake, so early in the morning. They take a nip be- 
fore they go a good one, ah! and long and slow, 
for fear the chills will lay them low, so early in 
the morning. Another when they're on the 
street, which they repeat each time they meet 
for " luck " for that's the way to greet a 
fisher in the morning. And when they are 
on the river's brink again they drink with- 
out a wink to fight malaria they think 
it proper in the morning. They tip a 
flask with true delight when there's a 
bite; if fishing's light they "smile" 
the more, till jolly tight all fishing 
they are scorning. Another nip as 
they depart; one at the mart and 
one to part; but none when in 
the house they dart expecting 
there'll be mourning. This 
is the bait the fishermen try, 
who fishes buy at prices 
high, and tell each one 
a bigger lie of fishing 
in the morning. 

H. C. Dodge. 


A Whimsey Anthology 



hang my bangs 
o'er eyes that dream, 
And nose and rose- 
bud lips for cream. 
And here's my 
chin with dim- 
ples in. 
This is my 
neck with- 
out a speck, 

which doth these snowy shoulders 
deck ; and here is see, oh, 
double T-O-N, which girls all 
wear, like me; and here's a 
heart, from cupid's dart, safe- 
shielded by this corset's art. 
This is my waist too tightly 
laced on which 
a bustle big 
is placed. 
This is my 
dress. Its cost, 
I guess, did my 
poor papa much dis- 
tress, because he sighed 
when mamma tried it on, 
and scolded so I cried; 
Lut mamma said I soon would 
wed and buy pa's clothes for him 
instead. It's trimmed with lace 
just in this place, 'neath which two 
ankles show, with grace, in silken hose 
to catch the beaus who think they're lovely, 
I suppose. These are 
my feet in slippers 
neat, and now if we 
should chance to meet we'll flirt 
a little on the street. How sweet. 



Shaped Whimseys 




and wick- 
ed, and 



with deadly 

juice and you 

needn't try to dodge it for it 

won't be any use; 




you up 

and catch 

you and 

with woe will 

fill your cup; 

oh, the steg- 

omyia'll get 

you if you 

don't clean 




A W him s ey Anthology 


Two little boys, named Jack and Jim, 

In hot, or wintry weather, 
No matter what the racket was 

Most always were together. 

But one day Jack went to the stream 

To take a little swim; 
He got a cramp, which laid him out, 

And here's the last of him: 


Jim tackled the green-apple crop, 

And twenty-four he ate; 
He got a cramp, which bent him s< 

They couldn t jerk him straight. 



Shaped Whimseys 


" Fury said to 
a mouse, That 
he met 
in the 
4 Let us 
both go 
to law : 
/ will 


Come, I'll 
take no 
denial ; 
We must 

have a 
trial : 


to do.' 
Said the 
mouse to 
the i nr. 

Such a 
dear sir, 
With no 
jury or 
would be 

our breath.' 
Til be 


old Fury ; 
Til try 

the whole 



death.' " 

Lewis Carroll. 

* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


We lived beneath the mat, 

Warm and snug and fat. 
But one woe, and that 

Was the cat ! 
To our joys 

a clog, In 
our eyes a 
fog, On our 
hearts a log 
Was the dog ! 
When the 
cat's away 
the mice 
But, alas ! 

one day (so they say) 

Came the dog and 

cat. Hunting 
for a 

the mice 
all flat. 


Lewis Carroll. 

* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 


Shaped Whims eys 


ZIG-ZAGGING it went 

On the line of the farm, 

And the trouble it caused 

Was often quite warm, 

The Old Line Fence. 
It was changed every year 
By decree of the court, 
To which, when worn out, 
Our sires would resort 
With the Old Line Fence. 

In hoeing their corn, 

When the sun, too, was hot, 

They surely would jaw, 

Punch or claw,when they got 

To the Old Line Fence. 
In dividing the lands 
It fulfilled no desires, 
But answered quite well 
In dividing our sires, 
This Old Line Fence. 

Though sometimes in this 

It would happen to fail, 

When, with top rail in hand, 

One would flare up and scale 
The Old Line Fence! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Then the conflict was sharp 
On debatable ground, 
And the fertile soil there 
Would be mussed far around 
The Old Line Fence. 

It was shifted so oft 

That no flowers there grew. 

What frownings and clods, 

And what words were shot 

The Old Line Fence! 
Our sires through the day 
There would quarrel or fight, 
With a vigor or vim, 
But 'twas different at night 
By the Old Line Fence. 

The fairest maid there 

You would have descried 

That ever leaned soft 

On the opposite side 

Of an Old Line Fence. 
Where our fathers built hate 
There we builded our love, 
Breathed our vows to be true 
With our hands raised above 
The Old Line Fence. 

Its place might be changed, 

But there we would meet. 

With our heads through the 
And with kisses most sweet, 

At the Old Line Fence. 


Shaped Whimseys 

It was love made the change, 
And the clasping of hands 
Ending ages of hate, 
And between us now stands 
Not a Sign of Line Fence. 

No debatable ground 

Now enkindles alarms. 

I've the girl I met there, 

And, well, both of the farms, 
And No Line Fence. 

A. W. Bellow. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


The scenery was simply grand, 
The day was one of bliss, 

And so his auto, for a time, 
Ran straight along like this. 

The whatyoucallit snapped in two 

When something went amiss, 
And with a snort and sudden plunge 

dug a hole 

Unsatisfied with lowly earth 
It gave a screech and hiss, 
And to the wonderment of Jones 



<D tuo +3 

t> ^M 

l> ^ <u 


'Twas thus they vanished out of view 

Above the gazing town; 
The fifth verse of the poem shows 

How much of both came down. 

McLandburgb Wilson* 


Shaped Whimseys 


He bought a little block of stock 

The day he went to town; 
And in the nature of such things, 






* * * * 

He sold a little block of stock: 

Now sorrow fills his cup, 
For from the moment that he did, 






* * * * 

He bought a little block of stock, 

Expecting he would taste of bliss; 
He can't let go and can't hang on, 



A Whims ey Anthology 


The length of this line indicates the ton of coal as dug by the miner. 

This one indicates the ton shipped to the dealer. 

The small dealer gets a ton like this. 

This is the one you pay for. 

This is what you get. 

The residue is: 

Cinders and 

And this line will give you some conception of the size of the BIL 








AN Austrian army, awfully array'd, 
Boldly by battery besiege Belgrade; 
Cossack commanders cannonading come, 
Deal devastation's dire destructive doom; 
Ev'ry endeavour engineers essay, 
For fame, for freedom, fight, fierce furious fray. 
Gen'rals 'gainst gen'rals grapple, gracious God! 
How honors Heav'n heroic hardihood! 
Infuriate, indiscriminate in ill, 
Just Jesus, instant innocence instill! 
Kinsmen kill kinsmen, kindred kindred kill. 
Labour low levels longest, loftiest lines; 
Men march 'midst mounds, motes, mountains, mur- 

d'rous mines. 

Now noisy, noxious numbers notice nought, 
Of outward obstacles o'ercoming ought; 
Poor patriots perish, persecution's pest! 
Quite quiet Quakers "Quarter, quarter," quest; 
Reason returns, religion, right, redounds, 
Suwarrow stop such sanguinary sounds! 
Truce to thee, Turkey, terror to thy train! 
Unwise, unjust, unmerciful Ukraine! 
Vanish vile vengeance, vanish victory vain! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Why wish we warfare? wherefore welcome won 

Xerxes, Xantippus, Xavier, Xenophon? 

Yield, ye young Yaghier yeomen, yield your yell! 

Zimmerman's, Zoroaster's, Zeno's zeal 

Again attract; arts against arms appeal. 

All, all ambitious aims, avaunt, away! 

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. 


A, B, c 

A IS an Angel of blushing eighteen: 
B is the Ball where the Angel was seen: 
C is her Chaperon, who cheated at cards: 
D is the Deuxtemps, with Frank of the Guards: 
E is her Eye, killing slowly but surely: 
F is the Fan, whence it peeped so demurely: 
G is the Glove of superlative kid: 
H is the Hand which it spitefully hid: 
I is the Ice which the fair one demanded: 
J is the Juvenile, that dainty who handed: 
K is the Kerchief, a rare work of art: 
L is the Lace which composed the chief part: 
M is the old Maid who watched the chits dance: 
N is the Nose she turned up at each glance: 
O is the Olga (just then in its prime): 
P is the Partner who wouldn't keep time: 
Q's the Quadrille, put instead of the Lanciers: 
R's the Remonstrances made by the dancers: 
S is the Supper where all went in pairs: 
T is the Twaddle they talked on the stairs: 


Alphabetical W hims ey s 

IJ is the Uncle who "thought we'd be goin'": 

JV is the Voice which his niece replied "No" in: 

[W is the Waiter, who sat up till eight: 

K is his Exit, not rigidly straight: 

Pf is a Yawning fit caused by the Ball: 

fe stands for Zero, or nothing at all. 

C. S. Calverley. 


VWAS an Army to settle disputes; 
B was a Bull, not the mildest of brutes; 
C was a Cheque, duly drawn upon Coutts; 
D was King David, with harps and with lutes; 
E was an Emperor, hailed with salutes; 
F was a Funeral, followed by mutes; 
G was a Gallant in Wellington boots; 
H was a Hermit, and lived upon roots; 
I was Justinian his Institutes; 
K was a Keeper, who commonly shoots; 
L was a Lemon, the sourest of fruits; 
M was a Ministry say Lord Bute's; 
N was Nicholson, famous on flutes; 
O was an Owl, that hisses and hoots; 
P was a Pond, full of leeches and newts; 
Q was a Quaker, in whitey-brown suits; 
R was a Reason, which Paley refutes; 
S was a Sergeant with twenty recruits; 
T was Ten Tories with doubtful reputes; 
U was Uncommonly bad cheroots; 
V was Vicious motives, which malice imputes; 


A Whimsey Anthology 

X was Ex-king driven out by emeutes; 

Y is a Yawn; then, the last rhyme that suits; 

Z is the Zuyder Zee, dwelt in by coots. 



A IS my Amy, so slender of waist; 
B's little Bet, who my button replaced; 
C is good Charlotte, good maker of paste; j 
D is Diana, the forest who traced; 
E is plump Ellen, by Edward embraced; 
F is poor Fanny, by freckles defaced; 
G is Griselda, unfairly disgraced; 
H is the Helen, who Ilion effaced; 
I is fair Ida, that princess strait-laced; 
J is the Judy, Punch finds to his taste; 
K is Kate darling, by fond lovers chased; 
L is Laurette, in coquetry encased; 
M is pale Margaret, saintly and chaste; 
N is gay Norah, o'er hills who has raced; 
O is sweet Olive, a girl olive-faced; 
P's pretty Patty, so daintily paced; 
Q some fair Querist, in blue stockings placed; 
R is frail Rose, from her true stem displaced; 
S is brisk Sal, who a chicken can baste; 
T is Theresa, at love who grimaced; 
U is pure Una, that maid undebased; 
V is Victoria, an empire who graced; 
W is Winifred, time who will waste; 
X is Xantippe, for scolding well braced; 


Alphabetical W him s ey s 

Y's Mrs. Yelverton; ending in haste, 
Z is Zenobia, in panoply cased. 

Mortimer Collins. 


HAVE Angleworms attractive homes? 
Do Bumble-bees have brains ? 
Do Caterpillars carry combs ? 
Do Dodos dote on drains? 
Can Eels elude elastic earls? 

Do Flatfish fish for flats? 
Are Grigs agreeable to girls? 

Do Hares have hunting-hats? 
Do Ices make an Ibex ill? 

Do Jackdaws jug their jam ? 
Do Kites kiss all the kids they kill? 

Do Llamas live on lamb? 
Will Moles molest a mounted mink? 

Do Newts deny the news? 
Are Oysters boisterous when they drink ? 

Do parrots prowl in pews? 
Do Quakers get their quills from quails? 

Do Rabbits rob on roads? 
Are Snakes supposed to sneer at snails? 

Do Tortoises tease toads? 
Can Unicorns perform on horns? 

Do vipers value veal? 
Do Weasels weep when fast asleep? 

Can Xylophagans squeal? 

* By permission of the Century Company. 


A IV him s ey A nt holo gy 

Do Yaks in packs invite attacks? 
Are Zebras full of zeal ? 

Charles E. CarryL 


A LLIGATOR, beetle, porcupine, whale, 
J-\ Bobolink, panther, dragon-fly, snail, 

Crocodile, monkey, buffalo, hare, 
Dromedary, leopard, mud-turtle, bear, 
Elephant, badger, pelican, ox, 
Flying-fish, reindeer, anaconda, fox, 
Guinea-pig, dolphin, antelope, goose, 
Humming-bird, weasel, pickerel, moose, 
Ibex, rhinoceros, owl, kangaroo, 
Jackal, opossum, toad, cockatoo, 
Kingfisher, peacock, anteater, bat, 
Lizard, ichneumon, honey-bee, rat, 
Mocking-bird, camel, grasshopper, mouse, 
Nightingale, spider, cuttle-fish, grouse, 
Ocelot, pheasant, wolverine, auk, 
Periwinkle, ermine, katydid, hawk, 
Quail, hippopotamus, armadillo, moth, 
Rattlesnake, lion, woodpecker, sloth, 
Salamander, goldfinch, angleworm, dog, 
Tiger, flamingo, scorpion, frog, 
Unicorn, ostrich, nautilus, mole, 
Viper, gorilla, basilisk, sole, 
Whippoorwill, beaver, centipede, fawn, 
Xantho, canary, polliwog, swan, 


Alphabetical Whimseys 

Yellowhammer, eagle, hyena, lark, 
Zebra, chameleon, butterfly, shark. 




The Absolutely Abstemious Ass, 

who resided in a Barrel, and only lived on 
Soda Water and Pickled Cucumbers. 

B The Bountiful Beetle, 

who always carried a Green Umbrella when 

it didn't rain, 
and left it at home when it did. 

C The Comfortable Confidential Cow, 

who sate in her Red Morocco Arm Chair and 
toasted her own Bread at the parlour Fire. 

D The Dolomphious Duck, 

who caught spotted frogs for her dinner 
with a Runcible Spoon. , 

E The Enthusiastic Elephant, 

who ferried himself across the water with the 
Kitchen Poker and a New pair of Ear-rings. 

F The Fizzgiggious Fish, 

who always walked about upon Stilts, 
because he had no legs. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

G The Good-natured Gray Gull, 

who carried the Old Owl, and his Crimson 

across the river, because he could not swim. 

H The Hasty Higgeldipiggledy Hen, 

who went to market in a Blue Bonnet and 

and bought a Fish for Supper. 

I The Inventive Indian, 

who caught a Remarkable Rabbit in a 
Stupendous Silver Spoon. 

J The Judicious Jubilant Jay, 

who did up her Back Hair every morning 

with a Wreath of Roses, 
Three feathers, and a Gold Pin. 

K The Kicking Kangaroo, 

who wore a Pale Pink Muslin dress 
with Blue spots. 

L The Lively Learned Lobster, 

who mended his own Clothes with 
a Needle and Thread. 

M The Melodious Meritorious Mouse, 
who played a merry minuet on the 


Alphabetical W ' hims ey s 

N The Nutritious Newt, 

who purchased a Round Plum-pudding, 
for his granddaughter. 

O The Obsequious Ornamental Ostrich, 
who wore boots to keep his 
feet quite dry. 

P The Perpendicular Purple Polly, 

who read the Newspaper and ate Parsnip Pie 
with his Spectacles. 

Q The Queer Querulous Quail, 

who smoked a pipe of tobacco on the top of 
a Tin Tea-kettle. 

R The Rural Runcible Raven, 

who wore a White Wig and flew away 
with the Carpet Broom. 

S The Scroobious Snake, 

who always wore a Hat on his Head, for 
fear he should bite anybody. 

T The Tumultuous Tom-tommy Tortoise, 
who beat a Drum all day long in the 
middle of the wilderness. 

U The Umbrageous Umbrella-maker, 

whose Face nobody ever saw, because it was 
always covered by his Umbrella. 


A IVhimsey Anthology 

V The Visibly Vicious Vulture, 

who wrote some verses to a Veal-cutlet in a 
Volume bound in Vellum. 

W The Worrying Whizzing Wasp, 

who stood on a Table, and played sweetly on a 
Flute with a Morning Cap. 

X The Excellent Double-extra XX 
imbibing King Xerxes, who lived a 
long while ago. 

Y The Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo, 

whose Head was ever so much bigger than his 
Body, and whose Hat was rather small. 

Z The Zigzag Zealous Zebra, 

who carried five Monkeys on his back all 
the way to Jellibolee. 

Edward Lear. 




To the memory of Miss Ellen Gee, of Kew, who died in conse- 
quence of being stung in the eye. 

T}EERLESS yet hapless maid of Q! 

Accomplish'd LN G! 
Never again shall I and U 
Together sip our T. 

For, ah! the Fates, I know not Y, 
Sent 'midst the flowers a B, 

Which ven'mous stung her in the I, 
So that she could not C. 

LN exclaim'd, "Vile spiteful B! 

If ever I catch U 
On jess'mine, rosebud, or sweet P, 

I'll change your stinging Q. 

"I'll send you like a lamb or U 

Across th' Atlantic C. 
From our delightful village Q 

To distant O Y E. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

"A stream runs from my wounded I, 

Salt as the briny C 
As rapid as the X or Y, 

The OIO or D. 

"Then fare thee ill, insensate B! 

Who stung, nor yet knew Y, 
Since not for wealthy Durham's C 

Would I have lost my I." 

They bear with tears fair LN G 

In funeral R A, 
A clay-cold corse now doom'd to B 

Whilst I mourn her DK. 

Ye nymphs of Q, then shun each B, 

List to the reason Y; 
For should A B C U at T, 

He'll surely sting your I. 

Now in a grave L deep in Q, 

She's cold as cold can B, 
Whilst robins sing upon A U 

Her dirge and LEG. 


O D V 

Containing a Full, True, and Particular Account of the Terrible 
Fate of Abraham Isaacs, of Ivy Lane. 


N I V Lane, of C T fame, 

There lived a man D C, 
And A B I 6 was his name, 
Now mark his history. 


Typographical Whimseys 

Long time his conduct free from blame 

Did merit LOG, 
Until an evil spirit came 

In the shape of O D V. 

"O! that a man into his mouth 

Should put an N M E 
To steal away his brains" no drouth 

Such course from sin may free. 

Well, A B drank, the O T Loon! 

And learned to swear, sans ruth; 
And then he gamed, and U Z soon 

To D V 8 from truth. 

An hourly glass with him was play, 
He'd swallow that with phlegm; 

Judge what he'd M T in a day, 
"X P D Herculem." 

Of virtue none to sots, I trow, 

With F E K C prate; 
And of N R G could now 

From A B M N 8. 

Who on strong liquor badly dote, 
Soon poverty must know; 

Thus A B in a C D coat 
Was shortly forced to go. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

From poverty D C T he caught, 

And cheated not A F U, 
For what he purchased paying 0, 

Or but an "I O U." 

Or else when he had tried B 4, 

To shirk a debt, his wits, 
He'd cry, "You shan't wait N E more. 

I'll W or quits." 

So lost did I 6 now APR, 
That said his wife, said she, 

"F U act so, your fate quite clear 
Is for I 2 4 C." 

His inside soon was out and out 

More fiery than K N; 
And while his state was thereabout 

A cough C V R came. 

He I P K Q N A tried, 

And linseed T and rue; 
But could save him, so he died 

As every I must 2. 

Poor wight! till black i' the face he raved, 

Twas P T S 2 C 
His latest spirit " spirit" craved 

His last words, "O D V." 


Ty p o j r ap h i c a I W ' h im s ey s 


I'll not S A to preach and prate, 

But tell U if U do 
Drink O D V at such R 8, 

Death will 4 stall U 2. 

O U then who A Y Z have, 

Shun O D V as a wraith, 
For 'tis a bonus to the grave, 

And S A unto death. 



LET others talk of L N's eyes, 
And K T's figure light and free, 
Say L R, too, is beautiful 

I heed them not while U I C. 
U need not N V them, for U 
X L them all, my M L E. 
I have no words when I would tell 

How much in love with U I B. 
So sweet U R, my D R E, 
I love your very PEG; 
And when you speak or sing, your voice 

Is like a winsome L O D. 
When URIC, hope D K's, 
I am a mere non- NTT. 
Such F E K C has your smile, 
It shields from N E N M E. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

For love so deep as mine, I fear, 

There is no other MED. 
But that you love me back again 

O, thought of heavenly X T C; 
So, lest my M T heart and I 

Should sing for love and LEG, 
T's me no more B Y's, B kind, 

O, M L E, U R, I C! 



O I C 

'M in a loder mood to-day 

& feel poetic, 2; 
4 fun I'll just off a line 
& send it off 2 U. 

I'm sorry you've been 6 O long; 

Don't B disconsolS; 
But bear your ills with 42de, 

& they won't seem so gr8. 



(Dedicated to the End of the Dictionary} 


XYLOGRAPHER started to cross the sea 
By means of a Xanthic Xebec; 

But, alas! he sighed for the Zuyder Zee, 
And feared he was in for a wreck. 

* By permission of the Century Company. 


Typographical Whimseys 

He tried to smile, but all in vain, 

Because of a Zygomatic pain; 
And as for singing, his cheeriest tone 

Reminded him of a Xylophone 
Or else, when the pain would sharper grow, 

His notes were as keen as a Zuffolo. 
And so it is likely he did not find 

On board Xenodochy to his mind. 
The fare was poor, and he was sure 

Xerophagy he could not endure; 
Zoophagous surely he was, I aver, 

This dainty and starving Xylographer. 
Xylophagous truly he could not be 

No sickly vegetarian he! 
He'd have blubbered like any old Zeuglodon 

Had Xerophthalmia not come on. 
And the end of it was he never again 

In a Xanthic Xebec went sailing the main. 

Mary Mapes Dodge 


IN the State of Mass. 
There lived a lass, 

I love to go N. C.; 
No other Miss. 
Can e'er, I Wis., 

Be half so dear to Me. 
R. I. is blue 
And her cheeks the hue 

Of shells where waters swash; 


A Whimsey Anthology 

On her pink-white phiz. 
There Nev. Ariz. 

The least complexion Wash. 
La. ! could I win 
The heart of Minn., 

I'd ask for nothing more, 
But I only dream 
Upon the theme, 

And Conn, it o'er and Ore. 
Why is it, pray, 
I can't Ala. 

This love that makes me 111. ? 
N. Y., O., Wy. 
Kan. Nev. Ver. I 

Propose to her my will ? 
I shun the task 
'Twould be to ask 

This gentle maid to wed. 
And so, to press 
My suit, I guess 

Alaska Pa. instead. Anonymous* 


A FISHERMAN, on angling bent, 
J-^ One Sabbath morning left his tent. 

The Tent, A 

He took his can, and very quick 
He dug his fish-worms with a pick. 

The Pick, ( The Worms, c/j GO 


Ty p ogr ap hi c a I W him s ey $ 

He thought he'd try for bass and smelt, 
And fixed his fish-bag to his belt. 

The Belt, U The Bag, Q 

In case some fish of size he'd get, 
He took along his landing-net. 

The Landing-Net, ~o 

As fishermen get very dry, 

They always have a flask hard by. 

The Flask 


As fishermen get hungry, too, 
Of pretzels he procured a few. 

The Pretzels, 29 2? 3? ^ 

Some lines he took along on spools 
To teach them to the finny schools. 

The Spools, hH hH HH 

He had some entertaining books 
Of highly-tempered Limerick hooks. 

The Hooks, J J J 

And thus prepared, he got his boat, 
And out upon the stream did float. 

The Boat, (^^ 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Whene'er the wind began to fail 
He used the paddle with the sail. 

The Paddle, -C^ 

He stopped to fish, among the sedge, 
A mile or so below the bridge. 

The Bridge, ~nrnrnmrn> 

Some bites he straight began to get, 
It was the gallinippers bit. 

The Gallinippers, ^ ^ W 

One of his lines spun off the reel; 
He landed in the boat an eel. 

The Eel, c/2 

Then quickly it began to rain, 
But his umbrella was in vain. 

The Umbrella, ^ 

Above his head the thunder crashed, 
And all around the lightning flashed. 

The Lightning, z 

The storm blew, and the boat upset; 
The man went down into the wet. 

The Upturned Boat f ^ 


Typ ogr ap hie al W hims ey s 

And as he sank, his bubbles rose, 
Smaller and smaller toward the close. 

The Bubbles, O o o o 

Oh, Sunday fishers, old and young, 

You will get drowned, or you'll get hung! 

The Gallows, rn 

. W. Bellow. 



N Arab came to the river side, 

With a donkey bearing an obelisk; 
But he would not try to ford the tide, 
For he had too good an *. 

Boston Globe. 

So he camped all night by the river side, 

And he remained till the tide ceased to swell, 

For he knew should the donkey from life subside, 
He never would find its ||. 

Salem Sunbeam. 
* * * 

When the morning dawned, and tide was out, 
The pair crossed over 'neath Allah's protection; 

And the Arab was happy, we have no doubt, 
For he had the best donkey in all that . 

Somerville Journal. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

You are wrong, they were drowned in crossing over, 
Though the donkey was bravest of all his race; 

He luxuriates now in horse-heaven clover, 
And his master has gone to the Prophet's *. 

Elevated Railway "Journal. 

* * * 

These asinine poets deserved to be "blowed," 
Their rhymes being faulty and frothy and beery; 

What really befell the ass and its load 
Will ever remain a desolate ?. 

Paper and Print. 

* * # 

Our Yankee friends, with all their 

For once, we guess, their mark have missed; 

And with poetry Paper and Print is rash 
In damming its flow with its editor's 

In parable and moral leave a between, 

For reflection, or your wits fall out of joint; 

The "Arab," ye see, is a printing machine, 
And the donkey is he who can't see the . 

British and Colonial Printer. 


IF all the types in a printer's hand 
Commend me to the ampersand, 
For he's the gentleman (seems to me) 
Of the typographical companie. 


Typographical Whimseys 

O my nice little ampersand, 
My graceful, swanlike ampersand! 
Nothing that Cadmus ever planned 
Equals my elegant ampersand! 

Many a letter your writers hate, 

Ugly Q, with its tail so straight, 

X, that makes you cross as a bear, 

And Z, that helps you with "zounds" to swear. 

But not my nice little ampersand, 

My easily dashed off ampersand; 

Any odd shape folks understand 

To mean my Protean ampersand. 

Nothing for him that's starch or stiff; 
Never he's used in scold or tiff; 
State epistles, so dull and so grand, 
Mustn't contain the shortened "and." 

No, my nice little ampersand, 

You are good for those who're jolly and bland; 

In days when letters were dried with sand, 

Old frumps wouldn't use my ampersand. 

But he is dear in old friendship's call, 
Or when love is laughing through lady scrawl, 
"Come & dine & have bachelor's fare," 
"Come & I'll keep you a round & square." 

Yes, my nice little ampersand 

Never must into a word expand; 

Gentle sign of affection stand, 

My kind, familiar ampersand. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


r I A HINE eyes, dear one, dot dot, are like, dash, 

what ? 

They, pure as sacred oils, bless and anoint 
My sin-swamped soul which at thy feet 

sobs out, 
O exclamation point, O point, O point! 

Ah, had I words, blank blank, which, dot, I've not, 
I'd swoon in songs which should'st illume the dark 
With light of thee. Ah, God (it's strong to swear) 
Why, why, interrogation mark, why, mark? 

Dot dot dot dot. And so, dash, yet, but nay! 
My tongue takes pause; some words must not be 


For fear the world, cold hyphen eyed, austere, 
Should'st shake thee by the throat till reason 


One hour of love we've had. Dost thou recall 
Dot dot dash blank interrogation mark? 
The night was ours, blue heaven over all 
Dash, God! dot stars, keep thou our secret dark! 



Typograph ic a I W hi m s ey s 



WHEN I lay in a cradle and suck'd a coral, 
I lov'd romance in my childish way; 
And stories, with or without a moral, 

Were welcome as ever the flow'rs in May. 
For love of the false I learnt 

my spelling, 

And brav'd the perils of 
While matters of fact were 

most repelling, 
Romance was pleasant as aught could 


My reading took me to desert islands, 

And buried me deep in Arabian Nights; 
Sir Walter led me amongst the Highlands, 

Or into the thickest of Moslem fights. 
I found the elder Dumas delightful J"T"1 

Before the son had eclips'd the [(jU * J = 
And Harrison Ainsworth finely tJ 


And Fenimore Cooper far from 


A few years later I took to reading 
The morbid stories of Edgar Poe 

Not healthy viands for youthful feeding 
(And all my advisers told me so). 


A Whimsey Anthology 

But, healthy or not, I enjoy'd them 


My feverish fancy was nightly j^p; 
Upon horrible crimes and murders 

Which sent me terrified off to 


Well; what with perils upon the prairies, 
And haunted ruins and ghosts in white, 

And wars with giants and gifts from fairies, 
At last I came to be craz'd outright. 

And many a time, in my nightly 

slumbers, r ^_ . , , _ 

Bearing a glove as a lady's \. 

I held the lists against countless 

After the style of the darkest 

I am chang'd at present; the olden fever 

Has left my brain in a sounder state; 
In commonplace I'm a firm believer, 

And hunt for figure and fact and date. 
I have lost a lot of my old affection, 

For books on which I was wont to 
But still I can thrill at the recol- 

Of mystery, magic, and martial 

Henry S. Leigh. 





WAR harms all ranks, all arts, all crafts appal; 
At Mars' harsh blast arch, rampart, altar 


Ah! hard as adamant a braggart Czar 
Arms vassal-swarms, and fans a fatal war! 
Rampant at that bad call, a Vandal band 
Harass, and harm, and ransack Wallach-land. 
A Tartar phalanx Balkan's scarp hath past, 
And Allah's standard falls, alas! at last. 


EVE, Eden's empress, needs defended be; 
The Serpent greets her when she seeks the 


Serene she sees the speckled tempter creep; 
Gentle he seems perverted schemer deep 

* Poems so constructed as to omit entirely a certain letter, or, on 
the contrary, restricted to the use of but one vowel. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Yet endless pretexts, ever fresh, prefers, 
Perverts her senses, revels when she errs, 
Sneers when she weeps, regrets, repents she fell, 
Then, deep-revenged, reseeks the nether Hell! 



DLING I sit in this mild twilight dim, 

Whilst birds, in wild swift vigils, circling skim. 
Light wings in sighing sink, till, rising bright, 
Night's Virgin Pilgrim swims in vivid light. 


NO monk too good to rob, or cog, or plot, 
No fool so gross to bolt Scotch collops hot. 
From Donjon tops no Oronooko rolls. 
Logwood, not lotos, floods Oporto's bowls. 
Troops of old tosspots oft to sot consort. 
Box tops our schoolboys, too, do flog for sport. 
No cool monsoons blow oft on Oxford dons, 
Orthodox, jog-trot, book-worm Solomons! 
Bold Ostrogoths of ghosts no horror show. 
On London shop-fronts no hop-blossoms grow. 
To crocks of gold no Dodo looks for food. 
On soft cloth footstools no old fox doth brood. 
Long storm-tost sloops forlorn do work to port. 
Rooks do not roost on spoons, nor woodcocks snort. 
Nor dog on snowdrop or on coltsfoot rolls, 
Nor common frog concocts long protocols. 



Lip ogr a m s 


JJLL humdrum murmurs lull, but hubbub 


Lucullus snuffs up musk, mundungus shuns. 
Puss purs, buds burst, bucks butt, luck turns up 

But full cups, hurtful, spur up unjust thumps. 





OLD Nassan quits his caravan, 
A hazy mountain grot to scan; 
Climbs jaggy rocks to spy his way, 
Doth tax his sight, but far doth stray. 

Not work of man, nor sport of child. 
Finds Nassan in that mazy wild; 
Lax grow his joints, limbs toil in vain 
Poor wight! why didst thou quit that plain. 

Vainly for succour Nassan calls, 
Know, Zillah, that thy Nassan falls; 
But prowling wolf and fox may joy, 
To quarry on thy Arab boy. 

* E is omitted. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


OD gives the grazing ox his meat, 

And quickly hears the sheep's low cry, 
But man, who tastes his finest wheat, 
Should joy to lift his praises high. 


* This stanza includes all the letters of the alphabet. 




MY Madeline! my Madeline! 
Mark my melodious midnight moans 
Much may my melting music mean, 
J My modulated monotones. 

My mandolin's mild minstrelsy, 

My mental music magazine, 
My mouth, my mind, my memory, 

Must mingling murmur "Madeline." 

Muster 'mid midnight masquerades, 

Mark Moorish maidens', matrons' mien, 

'Mongst Murcia's most majestic maids 
Match me my matchless Madeline. 

Mankind's malevolence may make 

Much melancholy music mine; 
Many my motives may mistake, 

My modest merits much malign. 

My Madeline's most mirthful mood 
Much mollifies my mind's machine; 

My mournfulness' magnitude 

Melts makes me merry Madeline 1 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Match-making mas may machinate, 
Manoeuvring misses me misween; 

Mere money may make many mate; 
My magic motto's, "Madeline!" 

Melt, most mellifluous melody, 

Midst Murcia's misty mounts marine, 

Meet me 'mid moonlight marry me, 
Madonna mia! my Madeline! 



LOOM, beauteous blossoms, budding bow- 
ers beneath! 

Behold,. Boreas' bitter blast by brief 
Bright beams becalmed; balmy breezes 


Banishing blight, bring bliss beyond be- 

Build, bonny birds! By bending birchen bough, 
By bush, by beech, by buttressed branches bare, 

By bluebell-brightened bramble-brake; bestow 
Bespeckled broods; but "bold bad boys beware! 

Babble, blithe brooklet! Barren borders breach, 
Bathe broomy banks, bright buttercups bedew, 

Briskly by bridge, by beetling bluff, by beach, 
Beckoned by bravely bounding billows blue! 

Sir Patrick Fells. 



Alliterative W hims ey s 


SUDDEN swallows swiftly skimming, 
Sunset's slowly spreading shade. 
Silvery songsters sweetly singing, 
Summer's soothing serenade. 

Susan Simpson strolled sedately, 
Stifling sobs, suppressing sighs. 

Seeing Stephen Slocum, stately 

She stopped, showing some surprise. 

"Say," said Stephen, "sweetest sigher; 

Say, shall Stephen spouseless stay?" 
Susan, seeming somewhat shyer, 

Showed submissiveness straightway. 

Summer's season slowly stretches, 
Susan Simpson Slocum she 

So she signed some simple sketches 
Soul sought soul successfully. 

Six Septembers Susan swelters; 

Six sharp seasons snow supplies; 
Susan's satin sofa shelters 

Six small Slocums side by side. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


FM1E cushat croods, the corbie cries, 
The cuckoo conks, the prattling pies 

To geek there they begin; 
The jargon of the jangling jays, 
The cracking craws and keckling jays, 

They deav'd me with their din; 
The painted pawn, with Argus eyes, 

Can on his May-cock call, 
The turtle wails on wither'd trees, 
And echo answers all. 

Repeating with greeting, 

How fair Narcissus fell, 
By lying and spying 
His shadow in the well. 

The air was sober, saft, and sweet, 
Nae misty vapours, wind, nor weet, 

But quiet, calm, and clear; 
To foster Flora's fragrant flowers. 
Whereon Apollo's paramours 
Had trinkled mony a tear; 
The which, like silver shakers, shined, 

Embroidering Beauty's bed, 
Wherewith their heavy heads declined 
In Maye's colours clad; 

Some knopping, some dropping 

Of balmy liquor sweet, 
Excelling and smelling 

Through Phoebus' wholesome heat. 
Alexander Montgomery. 


Alliterative W h i m s ey s 


DAWN that disheartens the desolate dunes, 
Dulness of day as it bursts on the beach, 
Sea-wind that shrillest the thinnest of tunes, 
What is the wisdom thy wailings would 

teach ? 

Far, far away, down the foam-frescoed reach, 
Where ravening rocks cleave the crest of the 


Sigheth the sound of thy sonorous speech, 
As grey gull and guillemot gather their fees; 
Taking toll of the beasts that are bred in the 

Foam-flakes fly farther than faint eyes can follow 
Drop down the desolate dunes and are done; 

Fleeter than foam-flowers flitteth the Swallow, 
Sheer for the sweets of the South and the Sun: 

What is thy tale, O thou treacherous Swallow? 
Sing me thy secret, Beloved of the Skies, 

That I may gather my garments and follow 
Flee on the path of thy pinions and rise 
Where strong storms cease and the weary wind 

Lo! I am bound with the chains of my sorrow; 

Swallow, swift Swallow, ah, wait, for a while! 
Stay but a moment it may be to-morrow 

Chains shall be severed and sad souls shall smile! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Only a moment a mere minute's measure 
How shall it hurt such a swift one as thou ? 

Pitiless Swallow, full flushed for thy pleasure, 
Canst thou not even one instant allow 
To weaker-winged wanderers ? Wait for me now ! 

Rudyard Kipling. 


OH, vestment of velvet and virtue, 
Oh, venomous victors of vice, 
Who hurt men who never have hurt you, 

Oh, calm, cold, crueller than ice! 
Why wilfully wage you this war? Is f 

All pity purged out of your breast ? 
Oh, purse-prigging procuratores, 
Oh, pitiless pest! 

We had smote and made redder than roses, 

With juice not of fruit nor of bud, 
The truculent townspeople's noses, 

And bathed brutal butchers in blood; 
And we all aglow in our glories, 

Heard you not in the deafening din; 
And ye came, O ye procuratores, 
And ran us all in! 

From the Sbotover Papers. 




Earth now is green and heaven is blue; 

Lively spring which makes all new. 

lolly spring doth enter. 

Sweet young sunbeams do subdue 

Angry aged winter. 

Blasts are mild and seas are calm, 

Every meadow flows with balm, 

The earth wears all her riches, 

Harmonious birds sing such a psalm 

As ear and heart bewitches. 

Reserve (sweet spring) this nymph of ours, 

Eternal garlands of thy flowers, 

Green garlands never wasting 

In her shall last our state's fair spring, 

Now and forever flourishing, 

As long as heaven is lasting. 

Str yohn Davies. 


Go, little poem, and present 
Respectful terms of compliment, 
A Gentle Lady bids thee speak; 
Courteous is She, though Thou be weak, 
fivoke from Heav'n, as thick as Manna, 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Joy after joy, on Grace Joanna. 
On Fornham's glebe and pasture land 
A blessing pray. Long, long may stand, 
Not touch'd by time, the Rectory blithe. 
No grudging churl dispute his tithe. 
At Easter be the offerings due 

With cheerful spirit paid. Each pew 

In decent order fill'd. No noise 

Loud intervene to drown the voice, 

Learning or wisdom, of the Teacher. 

Impressive be the Sacred Preacher, 

And strict his notes on Holy Page. 

May young and old from age to age 

Salute and still point out the "Good Man's Parson- 

a S C '" Charles Lamb. 


Lovely and loved, o'er the unconquered brave 
Your charms resistless, matchless girl, shall reign, 
Dear as the mother holds her infant's grave, 
In Love's warm regions, warm, romantic Spain. 
And should your fate to courts your steps ordain, 

Kings would in vain to regal pomp appeal, 

And lordly bishops kneel to you in vain, 

Nor Valour's fire, Love's power, nor Churchman's 

Endure 'gainst Love's (time's up) untarnished 






" Areyou deaf, Father William ?"theyoungman said, 

" Did you hear what I told you just now ? 

"Excuse me for shouting! Don't waggle your head 

"Like a blundering, sleepy old cow! 

"A little maid dwelling in Wallington Town, 

"Is my friend, so I beg to remark; 

"Do you think she'd be pleased if a book were sent 

"Entitled The Hunt of the Snark?'" 

"Pack it up in brown paper!" the old man cried, 
"And seal it with olive-and-dove. 
"I command you to do it!" he added with pride, 
"Nor forget, my good fellow, to send her beside 
"Easter Greetings, and give her my love." 

Lewis Carroll. 


Friendship, thou'rt false ! I hate thy flattering smile ! 
Return to me those years I spent in vain. 
In early youth the victim of thy guile, 
Each joy took wing ne'er to return again, 
Ne'er to return; for, chilled by hopes deceived, 
Dully the slow-paced hours now move along; 
So changed the times when thoughtless I believed 
Her honeyed words, and heard her siren song. 
If e'er, as me, she lure some youth to stray, 
Perhaps, before too late, he'll listen to my lay. 

* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


A boat, beneath a sunny sky 
Lingering onward dreamily 
In an evening of July 

Children three that nestle near, 
Eager eye and willing ear, 
""""^leased a simple tale to hear- 
Long has paled that sunny sky: 
Echoes fade and memories die: 
Autumn frosts have slain July. 

Still she haunts me, phantomwise, 
Alice, moving under skies 
Never seen by waking eyes. 

Children, yet, the tale to hear, 
Eager eye and willing ear, 
lovingly shall nestle near. 

In a Wonderland they lie, 
Dreaming as the days go by, 
Dreaming as the summers die; 

Ever drifting down the stream 
Lingering in the golden gleam 
Life, what is it but a dream ? 

Lewis Carroll. 
* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 




Unite and untie are the same so say you. 
Not in wedlock, I ween, has the unity been. 
In the drama of marriage, each wandering gout 
To a new face would fly all except you and I 
Each seeking to alter the spell in their scene. 


A Valentine 

(Read the first letter of the first line, second letter 
of the second line, and so on.) 

i TJOR her this rhyme is penned, whose lum- 
inous eyes, 

Rightly expressive as the twins of Leda, 
SP$11 find her own sweet name, that nestling lies 
Upc(J the page, enwrapped from every reader. 
\ Seai^Ji narrowly the lines! they hold a treasure 
' Diving a talisman an amulet 
That mu$fc be worn at heart. Search well the 


The woFtis-^he syllables! Do not forget 
Tha trivi;$est point, or you may lose your labour! 
And yet ther^is in this no Gordian knot 
Which one misfit not undo without a sabre, 
If one could merely comprehend the plot. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Rewritten upog> the leaf where now are peering 
Eye's scintillating soul, there lie perdus 
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing < 
Of poets by poets as the name is a poet's, too, S 
Its letters, although naturally lying 
Like the Knight Pint9 Mendez Ferdinando 
Still form a synonym for Truth. Cease trying! 
You will not read the riddle, though you do the j 
best you can do! 

Edgar Allan Poe. 


Though crost in our affections, still the flames 
Of Honour shall secure our noble Names; 
Nor shall Our fate divorce our faith, Or cause 
The least Mislike of love's Diviner lawes. 
Crosses sometimes Are cures, Now let us prove, 
That no strength Shall Abate the power of love: 
Honour, wit, beauty, Riches, wise men call 
Frail fortune's Badges, In true love lies all. 
Therefore to him we Yield, our Vowes shall be 
Paid Read, and written in Eternity: 

That All may know when men grant no Redress, 
Much love can sweeten the unhappinesS. 

Thomas Jordan. 




T I A\VAS whispered in heaven, 'twas muttered in 


And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; 
On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, 
And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed; 
'Twill be found in the sphere when 'tis riven 


Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder. 
'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, 
It assists at his birth and attends him in death, 
Presides o'er his happiness, honor, and health, 
Is the prop of his house and the end of his wealth, 
In the heaps of the miser is hoarded with care, 
But is sure to be lost in his prodigal heir. 
It begins every hope, every wish it must bound, 
It prays with the hermit, with monarchs is crowned; 
Without it the soldier, the sailor, may roam, 
But woe to the wretch who expels it from home. 
In the whisper of conscience 'tis sure to be found, 
Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion is drowned; 
'Twill soften the heart, but, though deaf to the ear, 
It will make it acutely and instantly hear; 


A M^himsey Anthology 

But, in short, let it rest like a delicate flower; 
Oh, breathe on it softly, it dies in an hour. 

Catherine Fanshawe. 


I DWELLS in the Hearth, and I breathes in 
the Hair; 
If you searches the Hocean, you'll find that 

I'm there. 

The first of all Hangels in Holympus am Hi, 
Yet I'm banished from 'Eaven, expelled from on 

'i g h. 

But, though on this Horb I'm destined to grovel, 
I'm ne'er seen in an 'Ouse, in an 'Ut, nor an 'Ovel. 
Not an 'Orse, not an 'Unter e'er bears me, alas! 
But often I'm found on the top of a Hass. 
I resides in a Hattic, and loves not to roam, 
And yet I'm invariably absent from 'Ome. 
Though 'Ushed in the 'Urricane, of the Hatmo- 

sphere part, 

I enters no 'Ed, I creeps into no 'Art. 
Only look, and you'll see in the Heye Hi appear; 
Only 'Ark, and you'll 'Ear me just breathe in the 


Though in sex not an 'E, I am (strange paradox) 
Not a bit of an 'EfFer, but partly a Hox. 
Of Heternity I'm the beginning! and, mark, 
Though I goes not with Noar, I'm first in the Hark. 

Enigmas and Charades 

I'm never in 'Ealth, have with Fysic no power, 
I dies in a month, but comes back in a Hour. 

Horace Maykew. 


WHEREAS by you I have been driven 
From 'ouse, from 'ome, from 'ope, from 


And placed by your most learned society 
In Hexile, Hanguish, and Hanxiety, 
Nay, charged without one just pretence 
With Harrogance and Himpudence, 
I here demand full restitution, 
And beg you'll mend your Hellocution. 

Mr. Skeat. 


I AM not in youth, nor in manhood or age, 
But in infancy ever am known. 
I'm a stranger alike to the fool and the sage, 
And though I'm distinguished on history's page, 
I always am greatest alone. 

I'm not in the earth, nor the sun, nor the moon; 

You may search all the sky, I'm not there; 
In the morning and evening, though not in the noon, 
You may plainly perceive me, for, like a balloon, 

I am always suspended in air. 

A Whimsey Anthology 

Though disease may possess me, and sickness, and 


I am never in sorrow or gloom. 
Though in wit and in wisdom I equally reign, 
I'm the heart of all sin, and have long lived in vain, 
Yet I ne'er shall be found in the tomb. 

Catherine Fanshawf. 


r I A HE noblest object in the works of art, 

The brightest scenes which nature can im- 

The well-known signal in the time of peace, 
The point essential in a tenant's lease; 
The farmer's comfort as he drives the plough, 
A soldier's duty, and a lover's vow; 
A contract made before the nuptial tie, 
A blessing riches never can supply; 
A spot that adds new charms to pretty faces, 
An engine used in fundamental cases; 
A planet seen between the earth and sun, 
A prize that merit never yet has won; 
A loss which prudence seldom can retrieve, 
The death of Judas, and the fall of Eve; 
A part between the ankle and the knee, 
A papist's toast and a physician's fee; 
A wife's ambition and a parson's dues, 
A miser's idol, and the badge of Jews. 
If now your happy genius can divine 
A corresponding word for every line, 

Enigmas and Charades 

By the first letters plainly may be found 
An ancient city that is much renowned. 

Anna SewarJ. 


I SIT stern as a rock when I'm raising the wind, 
But the storm once abated, I'm gentle and 


I have Kings at my feet, who await but my nod 
To kneel down in the dust on the ground I have 


Though seen by the world, I am known but to few; 
The Gentile deserts me, I am pork to the Jew. 
I have never passed but one night in the dark, 
And that was like Noah, alone in the ark. 
My weight is three pounds, my length is one mile, 
And when you have guessed me, you'll say with a 


That my first and my last are the best of this isle. 



I'M the stoutest of voices in Orchestra heard, 
And yet in an Orchestra never have been. 
I'm a bird of bright plumage, yet less like a 

Nothing in nature ever was seen. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Touching earth I expire, in water I die, 
In air I lose breath, yet can swim and can fly. 
Darkness destroys me, and light is my death; 
You can't keep me alive without stopping my 


If my name can't be guessed by a boy or a man, 
By a girl or a woman it certainly can. 



GOD made Adam out of dust; 
But thought it best to make me first. 
And I was made before the man 
According to God's holy plan. 
My body he did make complete; 
But without arms, or legs, or feet. 
My ways and actions did control 
And I was made without a soul. 
A living creature I became; 
'Twas Adam that gave me my name. 
Then from his presence I withdrew; 
Nor more of Adam ever knew. 
I did my Maker's laws obey: 
From them I never went astray; 
Thousands of miles I roam in fear; 
But seldom on the land appear. 
But God in me did something see, 
And put a living soul in me. 
A soul in me the Lord did claim, 
And took from me that soul again. 

* Answer: The whale that swallowed Jonah. 


Enigmas and Charades 

And when from me that soul was fled, 
I was the same as when first made. 
And without arms, or legs, or soul, 
I travel now from pole to pole; 
I labor hard both day and night; 
To fallen men I give great light. 
Thousands of people young and old, 
Do by my death great light behold. 
No fear of death doth trouble me, 
Nor happiness I cannot see. 
To heaven above I ne'er shall go; 
Nor to the grave, nor hell below. 
The Scriptures I cannot believe 
Whether right or wrong I can't conceive 
Although my name therein is found 
They are to me an empty sound. 
And when friends these lines do read 
Go search the Scriptures with all speed, 
And if my name you can't find there, 
It will be strange I do declare. 



and commiserate 
One who was blind, 
Homeless and desolate, 

Void of a mind; 

Guileless, deceiving, 

Through unbelieving, 

* Answer: See I Samuel xix. 13 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Free from all sin; 
By mortals adored, 
Still I ignored 
The world I was in. 
King Ptolemy's, Caesar's 
And Tiglath-pileser's 
Birthdays are shown; 
Wise men, astrologers, 
All are acknowledgers, 
Mine is unknown, 
I ne'er had a father 
Or mother; or rather, 
If I had either, 
Then they were neither 
Alive at my birth; 
Lodged in a palace. 
Hunted by malice, 
I did not inherit 
By lineage or merit 
A spot on the earth. 
Nursed among pagans, 
No one baptized me, 
A sponsor I had 
Who ne'er catechised me; 
She gave me the name 
To her heart was the dearest, 
She gave me the place 
To her bosom was nearest; 
But one look of kindness 
She cast on me never, 
Nor a word in my blindness 
I heard from her ever. 

Enigmas and Charades 

Compassed by dangers, 

Nothing could harm me; 

By foemen and strangers, 

Naught could alarm me; 

I saved, I destroyed; 

I blessed, I annoyed; 

Kept a crown for a Prince, 

But had none of my own; 

Filled the place of a King, 

But ne'er sat on a throne; 

Rescued a warrior; baffled a plot; 

Was what I seemed not, 

Seemed what I was not; 

Devoted to slaughter, 

A price on my head, 

A King's lovely daughter 

Watched by my bed; 

Though gently she dressed me, 

Fainting with fear, 

She never caressed me 

Nor wiped off a tear, 

Never moistened my lips 

Though parching and dry 

(What marvel a blight 

Should pursue till she die!) 

'Twas royalty nursed me, 

Wretched and poor; 

'Twas royalty cursed me 

In secret, I'm sure. 

I live not, I died not; 

But tell you I must 

That ages have passed 


A W him s ey Anthology 

Since I first turned to dust. 

This paradox whence ? 

This squalor! This splendor! 

Say! was I a King, 

Or a silly pretender? 

Fathom the mystery, 

Deep in my history! 

Was I a man ? 

An angel supernal ? 

A demon infernal ? 

Solve it who can! A 



IF it be true, as Welshmen say, 
Honor depends on pedigree, 
Then stand by clear the way 
And let me have fair play. 
For, though you boast thro' ages dark 
Your pedigree from Noah's ark, 
I, too, was with him there. 
For I was Adam, Adam I, 
And I was Eve, and Eve was I, 
In spite of wind and weather; 
But, mark me Adam was not I, 
Neither was Mrs. Adam I, 
Unless they were together. 
Suppose, then, Eve and Adam talking 
With all my heart, but if they're walking 
There ends all simile, 

* Answer : A bedfellow. 


Enigmas and Charades 

For, tho' I've tongue and often talk, 

And tho' I've feet, yet when I walk 

There is an end of me! 

Not such an end but I have breath, 

Therefore to such a kind of death 

I have but small objection. 

I may be Turk, I may be Jew, 

And tho' a Christian, yet 'tis true 

I die by resurrection! 



CUT off my head, and singular I act, 
Cut off my tail, and plural I appear; 
Cut off my head and tail, and, wondrous fact, 
Although my middle's left, there's nothing 


What is my head cut off? A sounding sea; 
What is my tail cut off? A flowing river, 
In whose translucent depths I fearless play, 
Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever. 



COME from my First, ay, come; 
The battle dawn is nigh, 
And the screaming trump and the thun- 
Are calling thee to die. 

* Campbell. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Fight, as thy father fought; 
Fall, as thy father fell: 
Thy task is taught, thy shroud is wrought; 
So forward and farewell! 

Toll ye my Second, toll; 

Fling high the flambeau's light; 

And sing the hymn for a parted soul 

Beneath the silent night; 

The helm upon his head, 

The cross upon his breast, 

Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed: 

Now take him to his rest! 

Call ye my Whole, go call 

The lord of lute and lay, 

And let him greet the sable pall 

With a noble song to-day; 

Ay, call him by his name, 

No fitter hand may crave 

To light the flame of a soldier's fame 

On the turf of a soldier's grave! 

Winthrop Mackworth Praed. 




r 1 CHOUGH but a late germ, with a wondrous 

Yet like a great elm it o'ershadows each 


Et malgre the office is still a large free mart, 
So joyous the crowd was, you'd thought it a glee 

mart ; 

But they raged at no news from the nations bellig- 

And I said, Lefm rage, since the air is refrigerant. 
I then met large numbers, whose drink was not 

Who scarce could look up when their eyes the gas- 

glare met ; 

So when I had learned from commercial adviser, 
That mere gait for sand was the great fertiliser, 
I bade Mr. Eaglet, although 'twas ideal, 
Get some from the clay-pit, and so get'm real ; 
Then, just as my footstep was leaving the portal, 
I met an elm targe on a great Highland mortal, 
With the maid he had wooed by the loch's flowery 


And rowed in his boat, which for rhyme's sake call 


A Whimsey Anthology 

And blithe to the breeze would have set the sail 

But it blew at that rate which our sailors term gale, 

I stumbled against the fair bride he had married, 

When a merle gat at large from a cage that she car- 

She gave a loud screech! and I could not well blame 

But lame as I was, I'd no wish to get lamer ; 

So I made my escape ne'er an antelope fleeter, 

Lest my verse, like the poet, should limp through 
lag metre. 

Dr. John Abernetby. 




ONE winter's eve around the fire, a cosy 
group, we sat, 

Engaged, as was our custom old, in after- 
dinner chat: 
Small talk it was, no doubt, because the smaller 

folk were there, 
And they, the young monopolists! absorbed the 

lion's share. 
Conundrums, riddles, rebuses, cross-questions, 

puns atrocious, 

Taxed all their ingenuity, till Peter the precocious 
Old head on shoulders juvenile cried, 'Now for 

a new task, 
Let's try our hand at Palindromes!' 'Agreed! 

But first,' we ask, 
'Pray, Peter, what are Palindromes?' The forward 

imp replied, 

'A Palindrome's a string of words, of sense or mean- 
ing void, 
Which reads both ways the same; and here, with 

your permission, 

* Words or phrases which read the same backward or forward. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

I'll cite some half-a-score of samples, lacking all 

(But held together by loose rhymes) to test my 


"A milksop jilted by his lass, or wandering in his 

Might murmur, Stiff, O dairyman, in a myriad of 


A limner, by photography dead beat in competition, 
Thus grumbled : No, it is opposed, art sees trade's 

opposition ! 
A nonsense-loving nephew might his soldier uncle 

With Now stop, Major-general, are negro jam pots 

won ! 
A supercilious grocer, if inclined that way, might 


A child with, But Ragusa store, babe, rots a sugar- 
tub ! 
Thy sceptre, Alexander, is a fortress, cried Hephaes- 

Great A. said, No, it's a bar of gold, a bad log for 

a bastion ! 
A timid creature fearing rodents mice, and such 

small fry 
Stop, Syrian, I start at rats in airy spots, might 

A simple soul, whose wants are few, might say 

with hearty zest, 

Desserts I desire not, so long no lost one rise dis- 



A stern Canadian parent might in earnest, not in 


Exclaim, No sot nor Ottawa law at Toronto, son ! 
A crazy dentist might declare, as something strange 

or new, 
That Paget saw an Irish tooth, sir, in a waste-gap ! 

A surly student, hating sweets, might answer with 


Name tarts, no, medieval slave, I demonstrate man ! 
He who in Nature's bitters findeth sweet food every 


Eureka! till I pull up ill I take rue, well might say." 

H. Campkin. 


SALTA, tu levis es; summus se si velut Atlas, 
(Omina se sinimus,) suminis es animo. 
Sin, oro, caret arcana cratera coronis 
Unam areas, animes semina sacra manu. 
Angere regnato, mutatum, o tangere regna, 
Sana tero, tauris si ruat oret angs: 
Milo subi rivis, summus si viribus olim, 
Muta sedes; animal lamina sede satum. 
Tangeret, i videas, illisae divite regnat; 
Aut atros ubinam manibus orta tua! 
O tu casurus, rem non mersurus acuto 
Telo, sis-ne, tenet? non tenet ensis, olet." 





(How to tell her age) 

OLADY MOON, your horns point toward 
the east; 

Shine, be increased; 

3 Lady Moon, your horns point toward the west; 
Wane, be at rest. 

Christina G. Rossetti. 


'T^HIRTY days hath September, 
April, June, and November, 
February has twenty-eight alone; 
All the rest have thirty-one, 
Excepting leap-year, that's the time 
When February's days are twenty-nine. 





IF you would have a good tyke, 
Of which there are few like, 
He must be headed like a snake, 
Necked like a drake, 
Backed like a bean, 
Tailed like a bat, 
And footed like a cat. 

Old Rhyme. 


The Cuckoo's Habits 

IN April, 
Come he will; 
In May, 

He sings all day; 
In June, 

He changes his tune; 
In July, 

He makes ready to fly; 
In August, 
Go he must. 

Old Rhyme. 


A IV him s ey A nt holo gy 

[Sung in orchards by Apple-howlers on Twelfth Day.] 

HERE stands a good apple-tree. 
Stand fast at root, 
Bear well at top; 
Every little twig 
Bear an apple big; 
Every little bough 
Bear an apple now; 
Hats full! Caps full! 
Threescore sacks full! 
Hullo, boys! hullo! 


HERE'S to thee, old apple-tree, 
Whence thou may'st bud, and whence thou 

may'st blow, 

And whence thou may'st bear apples enow! 
Hats full! Caps full! 
Bushel bushel sacks full, 
Old parson's breeches full, 
And my pockets full too! 
Huzza ! 





MONDAY'S child is fair of face, 
Tuesday's child is full of grace, 
Wednesday's child is full of woe, 
Thursday's child has far to go, 
Friday's child is loving and giving, 
Saturday's child works hard for its living, 
And a child that's born on the Sabbath-day 
Is fair and wise and good and gay. 

Old Rhyme. 


r^UT your nails Monday, you cut them for news; 
Cut them on Tuesday, a pair of new shoes; 
Cut them on Wednesday you cut them for 


Cut them on Thursday, 'twill add to your wealth; 
Cut them on Friday, you cut them for woe; 
Tut them on Saturday, a journey you'll go; 
Dut them on Sunday you cut them for evil, 
or all the week long you'll be ruled by the devil. 



NATURE requires five; custom gives seven; 
Laziness takes nine, and wickedness eleven. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


EARLY to bed and early to rise 
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise. 


-'. < h- i P 


HE who would thrive, must rise at five; 
He who hath thriven, may lie till seven. 



LEVER a cinq, diner a neuf, 
Souper a cinq, coucher a neuf, 
Fait vivre d'ans nonante et neuf. 

Anonymous, j 


IF you your lips 
Would keep from slips, 
Of these five things beware: 
Of whom you speak, 
To whom you speak, 

And how, and when, and where. 
Anonymous, i 



HE that spendeth much, 
And getteth nought; 
He that oweth much, 
And hath nought; 
He that looketh in his purse 

And findeth nought 
He may be sorry, 
And say nought. 

He that may and will not, 
He then that would shall not, 
He that would and cannot, 
May repent and sigh not. 

He that sweareth 

Till no man trust him; 
He that lieth; 

Till no man believe him; 
He that borroweth 

Till no man will lend him,- 
Let him go where 

No man knoweth him. 

He that hath a good master, 
And cannot keep him; 

I4^himsey Anthology 

He that hath a good servant, 

And not content with him; 
He that hath such conditions 

That no man loveth him, 
May well know other, 

But few men will know him. 

Hugh Rhodes. 


HE who knows not. and knows not that he 
knows not; he is a fool, shun him. 
He who knows not, and knows that he 

knows not; he is simple, teach him. 
He who knows, and knows not that he knows; 

he is asleep, wake him. 

He who knows, and knows that he knows; he is 
wise, follow him. 



YOU may know the fellow 
Who thinks he thinks, 
Or the fellow who thinks he knows; 
But find the fellow 

Who knows he thinks 
And you know the fellow who knows. 


[ 102 ] 



A MAN of words and not of deeds, 
Is like a garden full of weeds; 
And when the weeds begin to grow, 
It's like a garden full of snow; 
And when the snow begins to fall, 
It's like a bird upon the wall; 
And when the bird away does fly, 
It's like an eagle in the sky; 
And when the sky begins to roar, 
It's like a lion at the door; 
And when the door begins to crack, 
It's like a stick across your back; 
And when your back begins to smart, 
It's like a penknife in your heart; 
And when your heart begins to bleed, 
You're dead, and dead, and dead indeed. 



JANUARY snowy, 
February flowy, 
J March blowy, 

April showry, 
May flowery, 
June bowery, 

c 103] 

A Whimsey Anthology 

July moppy, 
August croppy, 
September poppy, 

October breezy, 
November wheezy, 
December freezy. 


THERE is a rule to drink, 
I think, 
A rule of three 
That you'll agree 
With me 

Cannot be beaten 
And tends our lives to sweeten: 
Drink ere you eat, 
And while you eat, 
And after you have eaten ! 

Wallace Rice. 


IF all be true that I do think, 
There are five reasons we should drink; 
Good wine a friend or being dry 
Or lest we should be by and by 
Or any other reason why. 

Dr. Henry Aldrich. 

[ 104] 




Your cup, 

But not spill wine; 

For if you 

'Tis an ill sign. 

Robert Herrick. 




FIRST there's the Bible, 
And then the Koran, 
Odgers on Libel, 
Pope's Essay on Man, 
Confessions of Rousseau, 

The Essays of Lamb, 
Robinson Crusoe 

And Omar Khayyam, 
Volumes of Shelley 

And Venerable Bede, 

And Captain Mayne Reid, 
Fox upon Martyrs 

And Liddell and Scott, 
Stubbs on the Charters, 

The works of La Motte, 
The Seasons by Thomson, 

And Paul de Verlaine, 
Theodore Mommsen 

And Clemens (Mark Twain), 
The Rocks of Hugh Miller, 

The Mill on the Floss, 
The Poems of Schiller, 

The Iliados, 


Catalogue IV him s ey s 

Don Quixote (Cervantes), 

La Pucelle by Voltaire, 
Inferno (that's Dante's), 

And Vanity Fair, 

And Baron Munchausen, 

Mademoiselle De Maupin, 
The Dramas of Marlowe, 

The Three Musketeers, 
Clarissa Harlowe, 

And the Pioneers, 
Sterne's Tristram Shandy, 

The Ring and the Book, 
And Handy Andy, 

And Captain Cook, 
The Plato of Jowett, 

And Mill's Pol. Econ., 
The Haunts of Howitt, 

The Encheiridion, 
Lothair by Disraeli, 

And Boccaccio, 
The Student's Paley, 

And Westward Ho! 
The Pharmacopoeia, 

Macaulay's Lays, 
Of course The Medea, 

And Sheridan's Plays, 
The Odes of Horace, 

And Verdant Green, 
The Poems of Morris, 

The Faerie Queen, 


A Whimsey AnthoCogy 

The Stones of Venice, 

Natural History (White's), 
And then Pendennis, 

The Arabian Nights, 
Cicero's Orations, 

Plain Tales from the Hills, 
The Wealth of Nations, 

And Byles on Bills, 
As in a Glass Darkly, 

Demosthenes' Crown, 
The Treatise of Berkeley, 

Tom Hughes's Tom Brown, 
The Mahabharata, 

The Humour of Hook, 
The Kreutzer Sonata, 

And Lalla Rookh, 
Great Battles by Creasy, 

And Hudibras, 
And Midshipman Easy, 

And Rasselas, 
Shakespeare in extenso 

And the ^Ejid4^ 
And Euclid (Colenso), 

The Woman who Did, 
Poe's Tales of Mystery, 

Then Rabelais, 
Guizot's French History, 

And Men of the Day, 
Rienzi, by Lytton, 

The Poems of Burns, 
The Story of Britain, 

The Journey (that's Sterne's), 


Catalogue W ' bims ey s 

The House of Seven Gables, 

Carroll's Looking-glass, 
JEsop his Fables, 

And Leaves of Grass, 
Departmental Ditties, 

The Woman in White, 
The Tale of Two Cities, 

Ships that Pass in the Night, 
Meredith's Feverel, 

Gibbon's Decline, 
Walter Scott's Peveril, 

And some verses of mine. 

Mostyn T. Pigott. 



ANDEL, Bendel, Mendelssohn, 
Brendel, Wendel, Jadassohn, 
Muller, Hiller, Heller, Franz, 
Plothow, Flotow, Burto, Ganz. 

Meyer, Geyer, Meyerbeer, 
Heyer, Weyer, Beyer, Beer, 
Lichner, Lachner, Schachner, Dietz, 
Hill, Will, Brull, Grill, Drill, Reiss, Rietz. 

Hansen, Jansen, Jensen, Kiehl, 
Siade, Gade, Laade, Stiehl, 
Naumann, Riemann, Diener, Wurst, 
Niemann, Kiemann, Diener, Furst. 

[ 109] 

A Whimsey Anthology 

Kochler, Dochler, Rubinstein, 
Himmel, Hummel, Rosenhain, 
Lauer, Bauer, Kleinecke, 
Homberg, Plomberg, Reinecke. 

E. Lemke. 



D astra, De Profundis, 

Keats, Bacchus, Sophocles; 
Ars Longa, Euthanasia, 
Spring, The Eumenides. 

Dead Leaves, Metempsychosis, 

Waiting, Theocritus; 
Vanitas Vanitatum, 

My Ship, De Gustibus. 

Dum Vivimus Vivamus, 

Sleep, Palingenesis; 
Salvini, Sursum Corda, 

At Mt. Desert, To Miss - 

These are part of the contents 

Of "Violets of Song," 
The first poetic volume 

Of Susan Mary Strong. 

R. K. Munkittrick. 


Catalogue W hims ey s 


THE Sioux and the Algonquins, where are 
Where, too, are now the Hurons and 


The Chickasaws, Oneidas, and Shawnees, 
The Winnebagos, and the Muscogees, 
The Saukies, the Comanches, and Uchees, 
The Kansas, Seminoles, and Weetumkees, 
The Mohegans, Nihantics, and Natchees, 
The Pequots, Miamis, and Yamasees, 
The Tuscaroras and the Waterees, 
The Narragansetts, and Menomonees, 
The Choctaws, Delawares, and Cherokees, 
The Eries, Yamacraws, and Mosokees, 
The Mohawks, and the Chickahominies, 
The Kickapoos, and tall Walhominies, 
The Androscoggins, and the Omahas, 
The Alibams, and Mitchigamuas, 
The Tangeboas, and the Pammahas, 
The Apalachias, and the Ostonoos, 
The Sacs and Foxes and the Onodoos, 
The Pottawattomies and loways, 
The Creeks, Catawbas, and Ojibbeways, 
The Senecas, Peorias, and Crows 
Who sank beneath the burden of their woes? 
How few remain of all those valiant hosts 
That peopled once the prairies and the coasts ? 



A Whimsey Anthology 


(Forty reasons for not accepting an invitation of a 
friend to make an excursion with him.) 

1. THE hollow winds begin to blow; 

2. The clouds look black, the glass is low, 

3. The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep, 

4. And spiders from their cobwebs peep. 

5. Last night the sun went pale to bed, 

6. The moon in halos hid her head; 

7. The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, 

8. For see, a rainbow spans the sky! 

9. The walls are damp, the ditches smell, 

10. Closed is the pink-hued pimpernel. 

11. Hark how the chairs and tables crack! 

12. Old Betty's nerves are on the rack; 

13. Loud quacks the duck, the peacocks cry, 

14. The distant hills are seeming nigh, 

15. How restless are the snorting swine! 

16. The busy flies disturb the kine, 

17. Low o'er the grass the swallow wings, 

1 8. The cricket, too, how sharp he sings! 

19. Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws, 

20. Sits wiping o'er her whiskered jaws; 

21. Through the clear streams the fishes rise, 

22. And nimble catch the incautious flies. 

23. The glow-worms, numerous and light, 

24. Illumed the dewy dell last night; 

25. At dusk the squalid toad was seen, 

26. Hopping and crawling o'er the green; 

C at c.logu e IV him s ey s 

27. The whirling dust the wind obeys, 

28. And in the rapid eddy plays; 

29. The frog has changed his yellow vest, 

30. And in a russet coat is dressed. 

31. Though June the air is cold and still, 

32. The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill; 

33. My dog, so altered in his taste, 

34. Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast; 

35. And see yon rooks, how odd their flight! 

36. They imitate the gliding kite, 

37. And seem precipitate to fall, 

38. As if they felt the piercing ball. 

39. 'Twill surely rain; I see with sorrow 

40. Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow. 

Edward Jenner. 


AS wet as a fish as dry as a bone; 
As live as a bird as dead as a stone; 
As plump as a partridge as poor as a rat; 
As strong as a horse as weak as a cat; 
As hard as a flint as soft as a mole; 
As white as a lily as black as a coal; 
As plain as a pike-staff as rough as a bear; 
As light as a drum as free as the air; 
As heavy as lead as light as a feather; 
As steady as time uncertain as weather; 
As hot as an oven as cold as a frog; 
As gay as a lark as sick as a dog; 
As slow as the tortoise as swift as the wind; 
As true as the Gospel as false as mankind; 


A Whimsey Anthology 

As thin as a herring as fat as a pig; 

As proud as a peacock as blithe as a grig; 

As savage as tigers as mild as a dove; 

As stiff as a poker as limp as a glove; 

As blind as a bat as deaf as a post; 

As cool as a cucumber as warm as a toast; 

As flat as a flounder as round as a ball; 

As blunt as a hammer as sharp as an awl; 

As red as a ferret as safe as the stocks; 

As bold as a thief as sly as a fox; 

As straight as an arrow as crook'd as a bow; 

As yellow as saffron as black as a sloe; 

As brittle as glass as tough as gristle; 

As neat as my nail as clean as a whistle; 

As good as a feast as bad as a witch; 

As light as is day as dark as is pitch; 

As brisk as a bee as dull as an ass; 

As full as a tick as solid as brass. 



ONE old Oxford ox opening oysters; 
Two teetotums totally tired trying to trot 

to Tadbury; 

Three tall tigers tippling ten penny tea; 
Four fat friars fanning fainting flies; 
Five frippy Frenchmen foolishly fishing for flies; 
Six sportsmen shooting snipes; 
Seven Severn salmons swallowing shrimps; 
Eight Englishmen eagerly examining Europe; 

Catalogue W him s ey s 

Nine nimble noblemen nibbling nonpareils; 

Ten tinkers tinkling upon ten tin tinder-boxes with 
ten tenpenny tacks; 

Eleven elephants elegantly equipt; 

Twelve typographical typographers typically trans- 
lating types. 




I AY go up and gay go down, 

To ring the bells of London town. 

Bull's eyes and targets, 

Say the bells of St. Marg'ret's. 

Brickbats and tiles, 

Say the bells of St. Giles'. 

Halfpence and farthings, 
Say the bells of St. Martin's. 

Oranges and lemons, 

Say the bells of St. Clement's. 

Pancakes and fritters, 
Say the bells of St. Peter's. 

Two sticks and an apple, 
Say the bells at WhitechapeL 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Old Father Baldpate, 

Say the slow bells at Aldgate. 

You owe me ten shillings, 
Say the bells at St. Helen's. 

Poker and tongs, 

Say the bells at St. John's. 

Kettles and pans, 

Say the bells at St. Ann's. 

When will you pay me? 
Say the bells of Old Bailey. 

When I grow rich, 

Say the bells at Shoreditch. 

Pray when will that be ? 
Say the bells at Stepney. 

I am sure I don't know, 
Says the great bell at Bow. 

Here comes a candle to light you to bed, 

And here comes a chopper to chop off your head. ! 



Catalogue IV him s ey s 


IS that dace or perch?" 
Said Alderman Birch; 
"I take it for herring/' 

Said Alderman Perring. 
"This jack's very good," 

Said Alderman Wood; 
" But its bones might a man slay," 

Said Alderman Ansley. 
"I'll butter what I get," 

Said Alderman Heygate. 
"Give me some stewed carp," 

Said Alderman Thorp. 
"The roe's dry as pith," 

Said Alderman Smith. 
"Don't cut so far down," 

Said Alderman Brown; 
"But nearer the fin," 

Said Alderman Glyn, 
"I've finished, i' faith, man," 

Said Alderman Waithman: 
"And I, too, i' fatkins," 

Said Alderman Atkins. 
"They've crimped this cod drolly," 

Said Alderman Scholey; 
' 'Tis bruised at the ridges," 

Said Alderman Brydges. 
"Was it caught in a drag? Nay," 

Said Alderman Magnay. 

A W him s ey A n t ho lo gy 

"Twas brought by two men," 

Said Alderman Ven 
ables: "Yes, in a box/' 

Said Alderman Cox. 
"They care not how fur 'tis," 

Said Alderman Curtis 
"From the air kept, and from sun/' 

Said Alderman Thompson; 
"Packed neatly in straw," 

Said Alderman Shaw: 
"In ice got from Gunter," 

Said Alderman Hunter. 
"This ketchup is sour," 

Said Alderman Flower; 
"Then steep it in claret," 

Said Alderman Garret. 



WHAT is earth, Sexton? A place to dig I 
What is earth, Rich man ? A place to 

work slaves. 

What is earth, Greybeard ? A place to grow old. 
What is earth, Miser ? A place to dig gold. 
What is earth, Schoolboy ? A place for my play. 
What is earth, Maiden ? A place to be gay. 
What is earth, Seamstress ? A place where I 

What is earth, Sluggard ? A good place to sleep. 


Catalogue Whimseys 

What is earth. Soldier? A place for a battle. 

What is earth, Herdsman ? A place to raise cattle. 

What is earth, Widow? A place of true sorrow. 

What is earth, Tradesman? I'll tell you to-mor- 

What is earth, Sick man ? 'Tis nothing to me. 

What is earth, Sailor? My home is the sea. 

What is earth, Statesman? A place to win fame. 

What is earth, Author? I'll write there my name. 

What is earth, Monarch ? For my realm it is 

What is earth, Christian ? The gateway of 



HOW uneasy is his life, 
Who is troubled with a wife! 
Be she ne'er so fair or comely, 
Be she ne'er so foul or homely, 
Be she ne'er so young and toward, 
Be she ne'er so old and froward, 
Be she kind, with arms enfolding, 
Be she cross, and always scolding, 
Be she blithe or melancholy, 
Have she wit, or have she folly, 
Be she wary, be she squandering, 
Be she staid, or be she wandering, 
Be she constant, be she fickle, 
Be she fire, or be she ickle; 


A W him s ey Anthology 

Be she pious or ungodly, 

Be she chaste, or what sounds oddly: 

Lastly, be she good or evil, 

Be she saint, or be she devil, 

Yet, uneasy is his life 

Who is married to a wife. 

Charles Cotton. 


WHO marrieth a wife upon a Monday, 
If she will not be good upon a Tuesday, 
Let him go to the wood upon a Wednes- 

And cut him a cudgel upon the Thursday, 
And pay her soundly upon a Friday: 
And she mend not, the divil take her a* Saturday: 
Then he may eat his meat in peace on the Sunday. 




HE year had gloomily begun 

For Willie Weeks, a poor man's SUN. 

He was beset with bill and dun 

And he had very little MON. 

"This cash," said he, "won't pay my dues, 

I've nothing here but ones and TUES." 
[ 120] 

Catalogue W him s ey s 

A bright thought struck him, and he said, 

"The rich Miss Goldrocks I will WED.' 

But when he paid his court to her, 

She lisped, but firmly said, "No, THUR!" 

"Alas!" said he, "then I must die!" 

His soul went where they say souls FRI. 

They found his gloves, and coat, and hat; 

The Coroner upon them SAT. 
Carolyn Wells. 




WHEN a twiner a twisting will twist him a 
For the twining his twist he three twines 

doth entwist; 

But if one of the twines of the twist do untwist, 
The twine that untwisteth, untwisteth the twist. 

Untwirling the twine that untwisteth between, 
He twists with his twister the two in a twine; 
Then twice having twisted the twines of the twine, 
He twisteth the twines he had twisted in vain. 

The twain that, in twisting before in the twine, 
As twines were entwisted, he now doth untwine, 
'Twixt the twain intertwisting a twine more between 
He, twisting his twister, makes a twist of the twine. 

Dr. Wallis. 



UAND un cordier cordant 
Veut corder une corde, 
Trois cordons accordant 
A sa corde il accorde. 

[ 122] 

Tongue Twisters 

Si Tun des trois cordons 

De la corde decorde, 
Le cordon decordant 

Fait decorder la corde. 

Allain Chattier. 


A THATCHER of Thatchwood went to That- 
chet a-thatching; 
Did a Thatcher of Thatchwood go to 

Thatchet a-thatching? 
If a thatcher of Thatchwood went to Thatchet a- 


Where's the thatching the thatcher of Thatchwood 
has thatched ? 



T)ETER PIPER picked a peck of pickled pep- 

A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. 
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, 
Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper 
picked ? 


[ 123 ] 

A Whimsey Anthology 


OFTTIMES when I put on my gloves, 
I wonder if I'm sane, 
For when I put the right one on, 

The right seems to remain 
To be put on that is, 'tis left; 

Yet if the left I don, 
The other one is left, and then 

I have the right one on. 
But still I have the left on right; 

The right one, though, is left 
To go right on the left right hand 
All right, if I am deft. 

Ray Clarke Rose. 


HE slew the noble Mudjekeewis, 
With his skin he made him mittens; 
Made them with the fur side inside; 
Made them with the skin-side outside; 
He, to keep the warm side inside, 
Put the cold side, skin-side outside; 
He, to keep the cold side outside, 
Put the warm side, fur-side, inside: 
That's why he put the cold side outside, 
Why he put the warm side inside, 
Why he turned them inside outside. 




UNDER the trees!" Who but agrees 
That there is magic in words such as these : 
Promptly one sees shake in the breeze 
Stately lime-avenues haunted of bees: 
Where, looking far over buttercupp'd leas, 
Lads and "fair shes" (that is Byron, and he's 
An authority) lie very much at their ease; 
Taking their teas, or their duck and green peas, 
Or, if they prefer it, their plain bread and cheese: 
Not objecting at all, though it's rather a squeeze, 
And the glass is, I daresay, at 80 degrees. 
Some get up glees, and are mad about Ries 
And Sainton, and Tamberlik's thrilling high Cs; 
Or if painters, hold forth upon Hunt and Maclise, 
And the tone and the breadth of that landscape of 


Or, if learned, on nodes and the moon's apogees, 
Or, if serious, on something of A.K.H.B.'s, 
Or the latest attempt to convert the Chaldees; 
Or in short about all things, from earthquakes to 


Some sit in twos or (less frequently) threes, 
With their innocent lambswool or book on their 


A JVhimsey Anthology 

And talk, and enact, any nonsense you please, 
As they gaze into eyes that are blue as the seas; 
And you hear an occasional "Harry, don't tease" 
From the sweetest of lips in the softest of keys, 
And other remarks, which to me are Chinese. 
And fast the time flees; till a ladylike sneeze, 
Or a portly papa's more elaborate wheeze, 
Makes Miss Tabitha seize on her brown muffatees, 
And announce as a fact that it's going to freeze, 
And that young people ought to attend to their Ps 
And their Qs, and not court every form of disease. 
Then Tommy eats up the three last ratafias, 
And pretty Louise wraps her robe de cerise 
Round a bosom as tender as Widow Machree's, 
And (in spite of the pleas of her lorn vis-a-vis) 
Goes to wrap up her uncle a patient of Skey's, 
Who is prone to catch chills, like all old Bengalese: 
But at bedtime I trust he'll remember to grease 
The bridge of his nose, and preserve his rupees 
From the premature clutch of his fond legatees; 
Or at least have no fees to pay any M.D.s 
For the cold his niece caught, sitting under the Trees. 

C. S. Calverley. 


GOLD! Gold! Gold! Gold! 
Bright and yellow, hard and cold, 
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled; 
Heavy to get, and light to hold; 
Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold, 


M on or hy m e s 

Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled; 
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old, 
To the very verge of the churchyard mould; 
Price of many a crime untold; 
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! 
Good or bad, a thousandfold! 

Thomas Hood 


r I A HE fable which I now present, 
Occurred to me by accident: 
And whether bad or excellent, 

Is merely so by accident. 

A stupid ass this morning went 

Into a field by accident: 

And cropped his food, and was content, 

Until he spied by accident 

A flute, which some oblivious gent 

Had left behind by accident; 

When, sniffling it with eager scent, 

He breathed on it by accident, 

And made the hollow instrument 

Emit a sound by accident. 

"Hurrah, hurrah!" exclaimed the brute, 

"How cleverly I play the flute!" 

A fool, in spite of nature's bent, 
May shine for once, by accident. 

Tomaso de Tnarte, 

[ 127] 

A Whimsey Anthology 


r I A HAT Roman nose! that Roman nose! 
Has robbed my bosom of repose; 
For when in sleep my eyelids close, 
It haunts me still, that Roman nose! 

Between two eyes as black as sloes 
The bright and flaming ruby glows: 
That Roman nose! that Roman nose! 
And beats the blush of damask rose. 

I walk the streets, the alleys, rows; 

I look at all the Jems and Joes; 

And old and young, and friends and foes, 

But cannot find a Roman nose! 

Then blessed be the day I chose 
That nasal beauty of my beau's; 
And when at last to Heaven I goes, 
I hope to spy his Roman nose! 

Merrie England 


OFT in danger, yet alive, 
We are come to thirty-five; 
Long may better years arrive, 
Better years than thirty-five. 

[128] ' 

M on or hy m e s 

Could philosophers contrive 

Life to stop at thirty-five, 

Time his hours should never drive 

O'er the bounds of thirty-five. 

High to soar, and deep to dive, 

Nature gives at thirty-five. 

Ladies, stock and tend your hive, 

Trifle not at thirty-five; 

For, howe'er we boast and strive, 

Life declines from thirty-five. 

He that ever hopes to thrive 

Must begin by thirty-five; 

And all who wisely wish to wive 

Must look on Thrale at thirty-five. 

Bo swell. 


A POET there was in sad quandary, 
To find a rhyme for Tipperary. 
Long laboured he through January, 
Yet found no rhyme for Tipperary; 
Toiled every day in February, 
But toiled in vain for Tipperary; 
Searched Hebrew text and commentary 
But searched in vain for Tipperary; 
Bored all his friends in Inverary, 
To find a rhyme for Tipperary; 
Implored the aid of "Paddy Gary," 
Yet still no rhyme for Tipperary; 
He next besought his mother Mary 
To tell him rhyme for Tipperary; 

[ 129] 

A Whimsey Anthology 

But she, good woman, was no fairy, 

Nor witch, though born in Tipperary; 

Knew everything about her dairy, 

But not the rhyme for Tipperary; 

The stubborn Muse he could not vary, 

For still the lines would run contrary 

Whene'er he thought on Tipperary. 

And though of time he was not chary, 

'Twas thrown away on Tipperary. 

Till of his wild-goose chase most weary, 

He vowed he'd leave out Tipperary. 

But no the theme he might not vary, 

His longing was not temporary, 

To find meet rhyme for Tipperary. 

He sought among the gay and airy, 

He pestered all the military. 

Committed many a strange vagary, 

Bewitched, it seemed, by Tipperary. 

He wrote, post-haste, to Darby Leary, 

Besought with tears his Aunty Sairie; 

But sought he far, or sought he near, he 

Ne'er found a rhyme for Tipperary. 

He travelled sad through Cork and Kerry, 

He drove like mad through sweet Dunleary, 

Kicked up a precious tantar-ara, 

But found no rhyme for Tipperary; 

Lived fourteen weeks at Stan-ar-ara, 

Was well-nigh lost in Glenegary, 

Then started slick for Denerara, 

In search of rhyme for Tipperary. 

Through Yankee-land, sick, solitary. 

He roamed by forest, lake, and prairie, 

[ 130] 

M on or hy m e s 

He went per terrain et per mare, 

But found no rhyme for Tipperary. 

Through orient climes on Dromedary, 

On camel's back through great Sahara; 

His travels were extraordinary 

In search of rhyme for Tipperary. 

Fierce as a gorgon on chimaera, 

Fierce as Alecto or Megaera, 

Fiercer than e'er a love-sick bear, he 

Ranged through the 'Monde " of Tipperary. 

His cheeks grew thin and wondrous hairy, 

His visage long, his aspect "eerie," 

His tout ensemble, faith, would scare ye, 

Amidst the wilds of Tipperary. 

Becoming hypochon-dri-ary, 

He sent for his apothecary, 

Who ordered "balm" and "saponary," 

Herbs rare to find in Tipperary. 

In his potations ever wary, 

His choicest drink was "home gooseberry." 

On swipes, skim-milk, and smallest beer, he 

Hunted rhyme for his Tipperary. 

Had he imbibed good old Madeira, 

Drank pottle-deep of golden sherry 

Of FalstafFs sack, or ripe Canary, 

No rhyme had lacked for Tipperar 

Or had his tastes been literary, 

He might have found extemporary 

Without the aid of dictionary, 

Some fitting rhyme for Tipperary. 

Or had he seen an antiquary, 

Burnt midnight oil in his library, 

A JVhimsey Anthology 

Or been of temper less "camstary," 
Rhymes had not lacked for Tipperary. 
He paced about his aviary, 
Blew up, sky-high, his secretary, 
And then in wrath and anger sware he, 
There was no rhyme for Tipperary. 

Dr. Fitzgerald. 



LAS! how dismal is my tale! 
I lost my watch in Doneraile; 
My Dublin watch, my chain and seal,] 
Pilfered at once in Doneraile. 

May fire and brimstone never fail 
To fall in showers on Doneraile; 
May all the leading fiends assail 
The thieving town of Doneraile. 

As lightnings flash across the vale, 
So down to hell with Doneraile; 
The fate of Pompey at Pharsale, 
Be that the curse of Doneraile. 

May beef or mutton, lamb or veal, 
Be never found in Doneraile; 
But garlic-soup and scurvy kail 
Be still the food for Doneraile. 

[ 132] 

M on or hy m e s 

And forward as the creeping snail 
The industry be of Doneraile; 
May Heaven a chosen curse entail 
On rigid, rotten Doneraile. 

May sun and moon for ever fail 
To beam their lights in Doneraile; 
May every pestilential gale 
Blast that curst spot called Doneraile. 

May no sweet cuckoo, thrush, or quail, 
Be ever heard in Doneraile; 
May patriots, kings, and commonweal, 
Despise and harass Doneraile. 

May every Post, Gazette, and Mail, 
Sad tidings bring of Doneraile; 
May loudest thunders ring a peal 
To blind and deafen Doneraile. 

May vengeance fall at head and tail, 
From north to south, at Doneraile; 
May profit light, and tardy sale, 
Still damp the trade of Doneraile. 

May Fame resound a dismal tale, 
Whene'er she lights on Doneraile; 
May Egypt's plagues at once prevail, 
To thin the knaves of Doneraile. 

May frost and snow, and sleet and hail, 
Benumb each joint in Doneraile; 


A Whimsey Anthology 

May wolves and bloodhounds trace and trail 
The cursed crew of Doneraile. 

May Oscar, with his fiery flail, 
To atoms thresh all Doneraile; 
May every mischief, fresh and stale, 
Abide henceforth in Doneraile. 

May all, from Belfast to Kinsale, 
Scoff, curse, and damn you, Doneraile; 
May neither flour nor oatenmeal 
Be found or known in Doneraile. 

May want and woe each joy curtail 
That e'er was known in Doneraile; 
May no one coffin want a nail 
That wraps a rogue in Doneraile. 

May all the thieves that rob and steal 
The gallows meet in Doneraile; 
May all the sons of Granaweal 
Blush at the thieves of Doneraile. 

May mischief, big as Norway whale, 
O'erwhelm the knaves of Doneraile; 
May curses, wholesale and retail, 
Pour with full force on Doneraile. 

May every transport wont to sail, 
A convict bring from Doneraile; 
May every churn and milking-pail 
Fall dry to staves in Doneraile. 


M on or hy m e s 

May cold and hunger still congeal 
The stagnant blood of Doneraile; 
May every hour new woes reveal 
That hell reserves for Doneraile. 

May every chosen ill prevail 
O'er all the imps of Doneraile; 
May no one wish or prayer avail 
To soothe the woes of Doneraile. 

May the Inquisition straight impale 
The rapparees of Doneraile; 
May Charon's boat triumphant sail, 
Completely manned, from Doneraile. 

Oh, may my couplets never fail 
To find a curse for Doneraile; 
And may grim Pluto's inner jail 
For ever groan with Doneraile. 

Patrick O'Ktlly. 



LL the Bard's rhymes, and all his inks, 
Will scarce pourtray the Proteus MINX: 

Nor artist brush with brightest tincts 
Of Fancy's rainbow picture MINX. 

The child of Man and beast: a sphinx 
Of noble rearing: that is MINX. 


A W him s ey A nt h olo gy 

With paw of leopard, eye of lynx, 
And spring of tiger, such is MINX. 

She's playful, harmless: Mousie thinks: 
But dreadful earnest's artful MINX. 

Seems nonchalante, and bobs, and blinks: 
Ma foi, toute autre chose is MINX. 

Formitat Homer oft: her winks 

Are rare: no "nid-nid-niddin" MINX. 

Aye "takkin notes" of holes and chinks: 
A slee and pawky body's MINX. 

An Abbess of Misrule: she slinks 
From no malfeasance: wilful MINX. 

(Law:) Ne quid nim, of neighbour's trinks: 
She's always nimming: roguish MINX. 

With reels of silk, thread, wool, plays rinks: 
Tossing and tangling: tricksy MINX. 

Loves, frisks, curvets, and highest jinks: 
Frolic's own daughter, merry MINX. 

As high-born dame in idlesse sinks, 
So idleth fa-niente MINX. 

A pert, coquettish, flirting finks: 
Has fifty beaux at once: vain MINX. 



Simplex munditiis, all sminks 

And smears of sluthood shun spruce MINX. 

Soprani trill their tink-a-tinks: 
My prima-cat-atrice's MINX. 

Horns blare, drums beat, and cymbal clinks: 
No mewsic equals mews of MINX. 

His richest creams, nectareous drinks, 
Her master sets aside for MINX. 

From human cares and snares he shrinks, 
To spend serener hours with MINX. 

The Dean's rare taste in his precincts 
Pets wild ducks: I pet wilder MINX. 

Of the Cat world the pink of pinks 
Is tailless, peerless, schonste MINX. 

9 Es aii twinned, the Bard enlinks 
The names for ever: OTHO, MINX. 

Orlando Thomas Dobbin. 


BRISK methinks I am, and fine 
When I drink my cap'ring wine; 
Then to love I do incline, 
When I drink my wanton wine; 


A W him s ey Ant hoi o gy 

And I wish all maidens mine, 
When I drink my sprightly wine; 
Well I sup and well I dine, 
When I drink my frolic wine; 
But I languish, lower, and pine, 
When I want my fragrant wine. 

Robert Herrick 


(Written by One Who Was Restricted as to 



S pants the heart that is the roe's/' 

So sings sweet Rosalie a lied; 
Or in her pretty garden hoes, 
Or pipes soft music on a reed. 


She trips across the lawn, fair Rose, 
Eyes follow where her footsteps lead, 

And catch a glimpse of scarlet hose, 

(She knows that he who runs may read). 

* By permission of Harper & Brothers. 


Af o nor hy m e s 


To heaven's heights, the fierce flames rose, 
Stone, iron, melted, just like lead; 

Right hard they worked with pump and hose, 
All night by flames her book she read. 


She planted peas, but not in rows, 

Just where her errant fancy led; 
I laughed at her with loud "ho, ho's" 

Until she blushed a rosy red. 

Charles Battell Loomis. 

[ 139] 



WHEN I, sir, play at cricket, sick it makes 
me feel; 
For I the wicket kick it backward with 

my heel. 

Then, oh! such rollers bowlers always give to me, 
And the rounders, grounders, too, rise and strike 

my knee; 

When I in anguish languish, try to force a smile, 
While laughing critics round me sound me on my 



EVEN is come; and from the dark Park, hark, 
The signal of the setting sun one gun! 
And six is sounding from the chime, prime 


To go and see the Drury-Lane Dane slain, 
Or hear Othello's jealous doubt spout out, 
Or Macbeth raving at that shade-made blade, 
[ I 4 0] 

Interior Rhymes 

Denying to his frantic clutch much touch; 
Or else to see Ducrow with wide stride ride 
Four horses as no other man can span; 
Or in the small Olympic Pit, sit split 
Laughing at Liston, while you quiz his phiz. 
Anon Night comes, and with her wings brings things 
Such as, with his poetic tongue, Young sung; 
The gas up-blazes with its bright white light, 
And paralytic watchmen prowl, howl, growl, 
About the streets and take up Pall-Mail Sal, 
Who, hasting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs. 

Now thieves to enter for your cash, smash, crash > 
Past drowsy Charley, in a deep sleep, creep, 
But frightened by Policeman B 3, flee, 
And while they're going, whisper low, "No go!" 
Now puss, while folks are in their beds, treads leads. 
And sleepers waking, grumble "Drat that cat!" 
Who in the gutter caterwauls, squalls, mauls 
Some feline foe, and screams in shrill ill-will. 

Now Bulls of Bashan, of a prize size, rise 
In childish dreams, and with a roar gore poor 
Georgy, or Charley, or Billy, willy-nilly; 
But Nursemaid, in a nightmare rest, chest-pressed, 
Dreameth of one of her old flames, James Games, 
And that she hears what faith is man's! Ann's 


And his, from Reverend Mr. Rice, twice, thrice: 
White ribbons flourish, and a stout shout out, 
That upward goes, shows Rose knows those bows' 

Thomas Hood. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


(Initial Rhymes) 

RAT-TAT it went upon the lion's chin; 
"That hat, I know it!" cried the joyful girl; 
"Summer's it is, I know him by his knock; 
Comers like him are welcome as the day! 
Lizzy! go down and open the street-door; 
Busy I am to any one but him. 
Know him you must he has been often here; 
Show him upstairs, and tell him I'm alone." 

Quickly the maid went tripping down the stair; 
Thickly the heart of Rose Matilda beat; 
"Sure he has brought me tickets for the play 
Drury or Covent Garden darling man! 
Kemble will play or Kean, who makes the soul 
Tremble in Richard or the frenzied Moor 
Farren, the stay and prop of many a farce 
Barren beside or Liston, Laughter's Child 
Kelly the natural, to witness whom 
Jelly is nothing to the public's jam 
Cooper, the sensible and Walter Knowles 
Super, in William Tell, now rightly told. 
Better perchance, from Andrews, brings a box, 
Letter of boxes for the Italian stage 
Brocard! Donzelli! Taglioni! Paul! 
No card, thank Heaven engages me to-night! 
Feathers, of course no turban, and no toque 
Weather's against it, but I'll go in curls. 


Interior Rhymes 

Dearly I dote on white my satin dress, 
Merely one night it won't be much the worse 
Cupid the new ballet I long to see 
Stupid! why don't she go and ope the door!" 

Glistened her eye as the impatient girl 
Listened, low bending o'er the topmost stair, 
Vainly, alas! she listens and she bends, 
Plainly she hears this question and reply: 
"Axes your pardon, sir, but what d'ye want?" 
"Taxes," says he, "and shall not call again!" 

Thomas Hood. 


NO longer, O scholars, shall Plautus 
Be taught us. 

No more shall professors be partial 
To Martial. 

No ninny 
Will stop playing "shinney" 

For Pliny. 
Not even the veriest Mexican Greaser 

Will stop to read Caesar. 
No true son of Erin will leave his potato 
To list to the love-lore of Ovid or Plato. 

Old Homer, 

That hapless old roamer, 
Will ne'er find a rest 'neath collegiate dome or 
Anywhere else. As to Seneca, 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Any cur 

Safely may snub him, or urge ill 
Effects from the reading of Virgil. 
Cornelius Nepos 
Wont keep us 
Much longer from pleasure's light errands 

Nor Terence. 

The irreverent now may all scoff in ease 
At the shade of poor old Aristophanes. 
And moderns it now doth behoove in all 
Ways to despise poor old Juvenal; 
And to chivvy 


The class-room hereafter will miss a row 
Of eager young students of Cicero. 
The 'longshoreman yes, and the dock-rat, he's 
Down upon Socrates. 

And what'll 

Induce us to read Aristotle? 
We shall fail in 
Our duty to Galen. 
No tutor henceforward shall rack us 
To construe old Horatius Flaccus. 
We have but a wretched opinion 

Of Mr. Justinian. 
In our classical pabulum mix we've no wee sop 

Of jEsop. 
Our balance of intellect asks for no ballast 

From Sallust. 
With feminine scorn no fair Vassar-bred lass at 

Shall smile if we own that we cannot read Tacitus. 

Interior Rhymes 

No admirer shall ever now wreathe with begonias 

The bust of Suetonius. 
And so, if you follow me, 
We'll have to cut Ptolemy. 
Besides, it would just be considered facetious 
To look at Lucretius. 

And you can 

Not go in Society if you read Lucan, 
And we cannot have any fun 
Out of Xenophon. 




N our hearts is the Great One of Avon 


And we climb the cold summits once built on 
By Milton. 

But at times not the air that is rarest 

Is fairest, 
And we long in the valley to follow 


Then we drop from the heights atmospheric 
To Herrick, 

Or we pour the Greek honey, grown blander, 
Of Landor; 

Or our cosiest nook in the shade is 

Where Praed is, 

A Whimsey Anthology 

Or we toss the light bells of the mocker 
With Locker. 

Oh, the song where not one of the Graces 

Where we woo the sweet Muses not starchly, 
But archly, 

Where the verse, like a piper a-Maying, 
Comes playing, 

And the rhyme is as gay as a dancer 
In answer, 

It will last till men weary of pleasure 

In measure! 
It will last till men weary of laughter . . . 

And after! 

Austin Dobson. 


WHEN a man travels he mustn't look queer 
If he gets a few rubs that he doesn't get 


And if he to Paris from Calais will stray, 
I will tell him some things he will meet on his way. 
Dover heights men like mites skiffery, cliffery, 


Can't touch prog sick as a dog packet 'em, 
racket 'em, makes pier. 

Interior Rhymes 

Calais clerks custom-house sharks lurchery, 

searchery, fee! fee! 

On the pave cabriolet clattery, pattery, oui! oui! 
Abbeville off goes a wheel hammery, dammery, 

tut! tut! 
Montreuil look like a fool latery, gatery, shut! 

Laughing, quaffing, snoozing, boozing, cantering, 

bantering, gad about, mad about 

When a man travels, etc. 

Ding dong postboy's thong smackery, crack- 

ery, gar! gar! 
Soups, ragouts messes and stews hashery, trash- 

ery, psha! psha! 
Beggar's woes donnes quelque chose howlery, 

growlery, sou! sou! 
Crawl like a calf post and a half sluggery, tug- 

gery, pooh! pooh! 
Saint-Denis custom-house fee lacery, tracery, 

non, non! 
Silver-tip ginger on lip feeing 'em, freeing 'em, 

bon, bon! 
Laughing, quaffing, etc. 

When a man travels, and gets by good luck 
To Paris, he stares like a pig that is stuck; 
And, if he's in want of a Guide de Paris, 
He'd better be quiet and listen to me. 
Montague Russe down like a sluice whizzery, 

dizzery, see-saw! 
Catacombs ghosts and gnomes bonery, groan- 

ery, fee faw! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Mille Colonnes queen on her throne flattery, 

chattery, charmant! 
Who's to pay? Beauvilliers suttle 'em, guttle 

'em, gourmand! 
Saint-Cloud fete of St.-Leu bower 'em, shower 

'em, jet d'eau. 
Bastille water-work wheel Elephant, elephant, 

wet oh! 

Laughing, quaffing, etc. 

Sol fa Tanta-ra-ra! Shriekery, squeakery, strum, 

Louis d'or couldn't get more packery, backery, 

glum, glum! 
Call for a bill worse than a pill largery, charg- 

ery, oh! oh! 

Diligence lessens expense waggon 'em, drag- 
gin' 'em, slow, slow! 
Quillacq glad to get back floodery, scuddery, 

sick, sick! 
Now we steer right for the pier over 'em, Dover 

'em, quick, quick! 
Laughing, quaffing, snoozing, boozing, cantering, 

bantering, gad about, mad about 
When a man travels he mustn't look queer 
If he gets a few rubs that he doesn't get here; 
And if he from Calais to Paris would stray, 
I've told him the things he will meet on his way. 

"James Smith. 


Interior Rhymes 


OCOME and cross over to nowhere, 
And go where 

The nobodies live on their nothing a day! 
A tideful of tricks in this merry 

Old Ferry, 
And these are things that it does by the way: 

It pours into parks and disperses 

The nurses; 

It goes into gardens and scatters the cats; 
It leaks into lodgings, disorders 

The borders, 
And washes away with their holiday hats. 

It soaks into shops, and inspires 

The buyers 

To crawl over counters and climb upon chairs; 
It trickles on tailors, it spatters 

On hatters, 
And makes little milliners scamper up-stairs. 

It goes out of town and it rambles 

Through brambles; 

It wallows in hollows and dives into dells; 
It flows into farmyards and sickens 

The chickens, 
And washes the wheelbarrows into the wells. 

* By permission of the Century Company. 

A Whimsey Anthology 

It turns into taverns and drenches 

The benches; 

It jumps into pumps and comes out with a roar; 
It sounds like a postman at lodges 

Then dodges 
And runs up the lane when they open the door. 

It leaks into laundries and wrangles 

With mangles; 

It trips over turnips and tumbles down-hill; 
It rolls like a coach along highways 

And byways, 
But never gets anywhere, go as it will! 

Oh, foolish old Ferry! all muddles 

And puddles 

Go fribble and dribble along on your way; 
We drink to your health with molasses 

In glasses, 
And waft you farewell with a handful of hay! 

Charles E. CarryL 


WHEN I was young and slender, a spender, 
a lender, 
What gentleman adventurer was prankier 

than I, 

Who lustier at passes with glasses and lasses, 
How pleasant was the look of 'em as I came 
jaunting by! 

Interior Rhymes 

(But now there's none to sigh at me as I come 
creaking by.) 

Then Pegasus went loping 'twixt hoping and toping, 

A song in every dicky-bird, a scent in every rose; 

What moons for lovelorn glances, romances, and 

And how the spirit of the waltz went thrilling to 

my toes! 

(Egad, it's now a gouty pang goes thrilling to my 

Was I that lover frantic, romantic, and antic 
Who found the lute in Molly's voice, the heaven in 

her eyes, 
Who, madder than a hatter, talked patter? No 

Call not that little, youthful ghost, but leave it 

where it lies! 

(Dear, dear, how many winter snows have drifted 
where she lies!) 

But now I'm old and humble, why mumble and 

At all the posy-linked rout that hurries laughing 

Framed in my gold-rimmed glasses each lass is who 

And Youth is still a-twinkling in the corner of 

my eye. 

(How strange you cannot see it in the corner of 
my eye!) 

Wallace Irwin. 




AND now the bell the bell 
She had so often heard by night and day 
And listened to with solemn pleasure, 

E'en as a living voice 
Rang its remorseless toll for her, 
So young, so beautiful, so good. 

Decrepit age, and vigorous life, 
And blooming youth, and helpless infancy, 
Poured forth on crutches, in the pride of strength 

And health, in the full blush 
Of promise the mere dawn of life 
To gather round her tomb. Old men were there 

Whose eyes were dim 

And senses failing 

Granddames, who might have died ten years ago, 
And still been old the deaf, the blind, the lame, 

The palsied, 

The living dead in many shapes and forms, 
To see the closing of this early grave! 

What was the death it would shut in, 
To that which still would crawl and creep above it! 

* These specimens of rhythmical prose are copied verbatim from 
the books in which they appear. 


Blank Verse in Prose 

Along the crowded path they bore her now; 

Pure as the new fallen snow 
That covered it; whose day on earth 

Had been as fleeting. 

Under that porch where she had sat when Heaven 
In mercy brought her to that peaceful spot, 

She passed again, and the old church 

Received her in its quiet shade. 

Oh! it is hard to take 
The lesson that such deaths will teach, 

But let no man reject ir, 
For it is one that all must learn 
And is a mighty universal Truth. 
When Death strikes down the innocent and young, 
From every fragile form from which he lets 
The panting spirit free, 
A hundred virtues rise, 
In shapes of mercy, charity, and love, 
To walk the world and bless it. 

Of every tear 

That sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves, 
Some good is born, some gentler nature comes. 

Charles Dickens 
(in "Old Curiosity Shop"). 


A Whimsey Anthology 


IT'S a dark night, sang the kettle, and the 
rotten leaves are lying by the way; 
And above, all is mist and darkness, and 

below, all is mire and clay; 
And there is only one relief in all the sad and murky 

And I don't know that it is one, for it's nothing but 

a glare 
Of deep and angry crimson, where the sun and 

wind together 
Set a brand upon the clouds for being guilty of 

such weather; 
And the widest open country is a long dull streak 

of black; 
And there's hoarfrost on the finger-post, and thaw 

upon the track; 

And the ice it isn't water, and the water isn't free 
And you couldn't say that anything was what 

ought to be; 
But he's coming, coming, coming! 

Charles Dickens 
(in " The Cricket on the Hearth ") 





T'S all a trick, quite easy when you know it 

As easy as reciting A, B, C. 
You need not be an atom of a poet. 

If you've a grain of wit and want to show it, 
Writing a Villanelle take this from me 
It's all a trick, quite easy when you know it. 

You start a pair of "rimes" and then you "go it," 

With rapid running pen and fancy free, 
You need not be an atom of a poet. 

Take any thought, write round it or below it, 

Above or near it, as it liketh thee; 
It's all a trick, quite easy when you know it. 

Pursue your task, till, like a shrub, you grow it, 

Up to the standard size it ought to be; 
You need not be an atom of a poet. 

Clear it of weeds, and water it, and hoe it, 

Then watch it blossom with triumphant glee, 
It's all a trick, quite easy when you know it. 
You need not be an atom of a poet. 

Walter W. Sleat. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


YOU bid me try, Blue-eyes, to write 
A Rondeau. What! forthwith? to-night? 

Reflect? Some skill I have, 'tis true; 
But thirteen lines! and rhymed on two! 
"Refrain," as well. Ah, hapless plight! 
Still there are five lines ranged aright. 
These Gallic bonds, I feared, would fright 
My easy Muse. They did, till you 
You bid me try! 

That makes them eight. The port's in sight; 
'Tis all because your eyes are bright! 
Now just a pair to end in "oo," 
When maids command, what can't we do? 
Behold! The Rondeau tasteful, light 

You bid me try! 

Austin Dobson. 


\ ROUNDEL is wrought as a ring or a star-; 

bright sphere. 
With craft of delight and with cunning of 

sound unsought, 

That the heart of the hearer may smile if 
to pleasure his ear 
A roundel is wrought. 

[ 156] 

Fixed Forms 

Its jewel of music is carven of all or of aught 
Love, laughter, or mourning remembrance of rap- 
ture or fear 
That fancy may fashion to hang in the ear of 

As a bird's quick song runs round, and the hearts 

in us hear 
Pause answer to pause, and again the same strain 


So moves the device whence, round as a pearl or 

A roundel is wrought. 

A. C. Swinburne. 


are the things that make me laugh 
Life's a preposterous farce, say I! 
And I've missed of too many jokes by half. 

The high-heeled antics of colt and calf, 

The men who think they can act, and try 
These are the things that make me laugh. 

The hard-boiled poses in photograph, 

The groom still wearing his wedding tie 
And I've missed of too many jokes by half! 

These are the bubbles I gayly quaff 

With the rank conceit of the new-born fly 
These are the things that make me laugh! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

For, Heaven help me! I needs must chaff, 

And people will tickle me till I die 
And I've missed of too many jokes, by half! 

So write me down in my epitaph 
As one too fond of his health to cry 
These are the things that make me laugh, 
And I've missed of too many jokes by half! 

Gelett Burgess 


NEVER loved a dear gazelle 

Nor anything that cost me much: 

High prices profit those who sell, 
But why should I be fond of such ? 

To glad me with bis soft black eye 

My son comes trotting home from school: 

He's had a fight, but can't tell why- 
He always was a little fool ! 

But, when be came to know me well, 
He kicked me out, her testy Sire; 

And when I stained my hair, that Belle 
Might note the change, and thus admire 

* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 


Fixed Forms 

And love me, it was sure to dye 

A muddy green or staring blue: 
While one might trace, with half an eye, 

The still-triumphant carrot through. 

Lewis Carroll. 


EASY is the triolet, 
If you really learn to make it! 
Once a neat refrain you get, 
Easy is the triolet. 
As you see! I pay my debt 

With another rhyme. Deuce take it, 
Easy is the triolet, 

If you really learn to make it! 

W. E. Henley. 


I LOVE you, my lord!" 
Was all that she said 
What a dissonant chord, 
"I love you, my lord!" 
Ah! how I abhorred 

That sarcastic maid! 

"/ love you? My Lord!" 

Was all that she said. 

Paul T. Gilbert. 


A Whimsey Anthology 



A PITCHER of mignonette, 
In a tenement's highest casement: 
Queer sort of flower-pot yet 
That pitcher of mignonette 
Is a garden in heaven set, 

To the little sick child in the basement 
The pitcher of mignonette, 

In the tenement's highest casement. 

H. C. Bunner 


And it turned into Triolets. 
It began a la mode: 
I intended an Ode, 
But Rose crossed the road 

With a bunch of fresh violets. 
I intended an Ode, 

And it turned into Triolets. 

I intended an Ode, 

And it turned out a Sonnet, 
It began a la mode, 
I intended an Ode; 

Fixed Forms 

But Rose crossed the road 

In her latest new bonnet. 
I intended an Ode, 

And it turned out a Sonnet. 

Austin Dobson. 


I OFTEN does a quiet read 
At Booty Shelly 's poetry; 
I think that Swinburne at a screed 

Is really almost too-too fly; 
At Signor Vagna's harmony 

I likes a merry little flutter; 
I've had at Pater many a shy; 

In fact my form's the Bloomin' Utter. 

My mark's a tiny little feed, 

And Enery Irving's gallery, 
To see old 'Amlick do a bleed, 

And Ellen Terry on the die, 

Or Franky's ghostes at hi-spy, 
And parties carried on a shutter. 

Them vulgar Coupeaus is my eye! 
In fact my form's the Bloomin' Utter. 

The Grosvenor's nuts it is, indeed! 

I goes for 'Olman 'Unt like pie. 
It's equal to a friendly lead 

To see B. Jones's judes go by. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Stanhope he makes me fit to cry, 
Whistler he makes me melt like butter, 

Strudwick he makes me flash my cly, 
In fact my form's the Bloomin' Utter. 


I'm on for any Art that's 'Igh; 
I talks as quite as I can splutter; 

I keeps a Dado on the sly; 
In fact my form's the Bloomin' Utter! 

W. E. Henley. 



OW ain't they utterly too-too 

(She ses, my Missus mine, ses she) 
Them flymy little bits of Blue. 

Joe, just you kool 'em nice and skew 

Upon our old meogginee, 
Now ain't they utterly too-too? 

They're better than a pot'n' a screw, 

They're equal to a Sunday spree, 
Them flymy little bits of Blue! 

Suppose I put 'em up the flue, 

And booze the profits, Joe? Not me. 
Now ain't they utterly too-too ? 


Fixed Forms 

I do the 'Igh Art fake, I do. 

Joe, I'm consummate; and I see 
Them flymy little bits of Blue. 

Which, Joe, is why I ses to you 

^Esthetic-like, and limp, and free 
Now aint they utterly too-too, 
Them flymy little bits of Blue ? 

W. E. Henley. 


MAN is for woman made, 
And woman made for man: 
As the spur is for the jade, 
As the scabbard for the blade, 

As for liquor is the can, 
So man's for woman made, 
And woman made for man. 

As the sceptre to be sway'd, 
As to night the serenade, 

As for pudding is the pan, 

As to cool us is the fan, 
So man's for woman made, 

And woman made for man. 

Be she widow, wife, or maid, 
Be she wanton, be she staid, 
Be she well or ill array'd, 
So man's for woman made, 
And woman made for man. 

Peter A. Motteux. 

A Whimsey Anthology 


A SONNET would you have ? Know you, myi 

For sonnets fourteen lines are necessary. 
Ah, necessary rhymes, by luck to fairy 
I'll call you one, and the first quatrain get. 
This meets half-way the second; half-way met. 
One meets an obstacle in a manner airy. 
But here, though it is not your name, as Mary 
Til set you down, settling the second set. 

Now, you'll admit, a sonnet without love, 
Without the savour of a woman in't, 

Were profanation of poetic art. 
Love, above all things! So 'tis writ above. 
Nor there alone. Your sonneteer, I'd hint, 
Gives you this sonnet here with all his heart. 
Henry Cuyler Bunner. 


T write a sonnet doth my Julia press me; 
I've never found me in such stress or pain; 
A sonnet numbers fourteen lines, 'tis plain, 
And three are gone ere I can say, God bless me! 

I thought that spinning lines would sore oppress me, 
Yet here I'm midway in the last quatrain: 
And if the foremost tercet I begin, 

The quatrains need not any more distress me. 

Fixed Forms 

"o the first tercet I have got at last, 

And travel through it with such right good will, 
"hat with this line I've finished it, I ween: 

*m in the second now, and see how fast 

The thirteenth line comes tripping from my quill: 
-lurrah! 'tis done! Count if there be fourteen. 

James T. Gibson. 


(Dum tacent claimant) 

TNGLORIOUS friend! most confident I am 
( Thy life is one of very little ease; 

Albeit men mock thee with their similes 
\iul prate of being "happy as a clam!" 
vVhat though thy shell protects thy fragile head 

From the sharp bailiffs of the briny sea ? 

Thy valves are, sure, no safety-valves to thee, 
While rakes are free to desecrate thy bed, 
\nd bear thee off" as foemen take their spoil 

Far from thy friends and family to roam; 

Forced, like a Hessian, from thy native home, 
To meet destruction in a foreign broil! 

Though thou art tender yet thy humble bard 

Declares, O clam! thy case is shocking hard! 

John G. Saxe. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


JENNY kissed me when we met, 
Jumping from the chair she sat in; 
Time, you thief, who love to get 
Sweets into your list, put that in; 
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, 

Say that health and wealth have missed me, 
Say I'm growing old, but add, 
Jenny kissed me! 

Leigh Hunt. 


REMEMBER it, although you're far away 
Too far away more fivers yet to land, 
When you no more can proffer notes of 


Nor I half yearn to change my yea to nay. 
Remember, when no more in airy way, 
You tell me of repayment sagely planned: 
Only remember it, you understand! 
It's rather late to counsel you to pay; 
Yet if you should remember for a while, 
And then forget it wholly, I should grieve; 
For, though your light procrastinations leave 
Small remnants of the hope that once I had, 
Than that you should forget your debt and smile, 
I'd rather you'd remember and be sad. 


Fixed Forms 


(Chorus beard on the deck of a Saguenay steamboat) 

TNTEGRAL were we, in our old existence; 
Separate beings, individually: 
Now are our entities blended, fused, and foun- 

We are one person. 

We are not mortals, we are not celestials, 
We are not birds, the upper ether cleaving, 
We are a retrogression toward the monad: 
We are Cook's Tourists. 

All ways we follow him who holds the guide-book 
All things we look at, with bedazzled optics; 
Sad are our hearts, because the vulgar rabble 
Call us the Cookies. 

Happy the man who, by his cheerful fireside, 
Says to the partner of his joys and sorrows: 
'Anna Maria, let us go to-morrow 
Out for an airing." 

Him to Manhattan, or the Beach of Brighton, 
Gayly he hieth, or if, fate-accursed, 
Lives he in Boston, still he may betake him 
Down to Nantasket. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Happy the mortal free and independent, 
Master of the mainspring of his own volition! 
Look on us with the eye of sweet compassion: 
We are Cook's Tourists. 

H. C. Bunner. 

l-i/V" "*J (X*vu 





r I A HE oft'ner seen, the more I lust, 

The more I lust, the more I smart, 
The more I smart, the more I trust, 
The more I trust, the heavier heart, 

The heavy heart breeds mine unrest, 

Thy absence therefore I like best. 

The rarer seen, the less in mind, 
The less in mind, the lesser pain, 
The lesser pain, less grief I find, 
The lesser grief, the greater gain, 
The greater gain, the merrier I, 
Therefore I wish thy sight to fly. 

The further off, the more I joy, 
The more I joy, the happier life, 
The happier life, less hurts annoy, 
The lesser hurts, pleasure most rife, 
Such pleasures rife shall I obtain 
When distance doth depart us twain. 

Barnaby Googe. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


r I A HE longer life, the more oflFence; 

The more offence, the greater pain; 

The greater pain the less defence; 

The less defence, the greater gain 

Wherefore, come death, and let me die! 

The shorter life, less care I find, 
Less care I take, the sooner over; 
The sooner o'er, the merrier mind; 
The merrier mind, the better lover 

Wherefore, come death, and let me die! 

Come, gentle death, the ebb of care; 
The ebb of care, the flood of life; 
The flood of life, I'm sooner there; 
I'm sooner there the end of strife 
The end of strife, that thing wish I 

Wherefore, come death, and let me die! 



NERVE thy soul with doctrines noble, 
Noble in the walks of time, 
Time that leads to an eternal, 

An eternal life sublime: 
Life sublime in moral beauty, 
Beauty that shall ever be; 

Chain Verse 

Ever be to lure thee onward, 
Onward to the fountain free: 

Free to every earnest seeker, 
Seeker for the fount of youth, 

Youth exultant in its beauty, 
Beauty of the living truth. 





1. Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 

2. Life's a short summer, man a flower. 

3. By turns we catch the vital breath and die 

4. The cradle and the tomb, alas! so nigh. 

5. To be, is better far than not to be. 

6. Though all man's life may seem a tragedy; 

7. But light cares speak when mighty griefs are 


8. The bottom is but shallow whence they come. 

9. Your fate is but the common lot of all: 

10. Unmingled joys here to no man befall, 

11. Nature to each allots his proper sphere; 

12. Fortune makes folly her peculiar care; 

13. Custom does often reason overrule, 

14. And throw a cruel sunshine on a fool. 

* I. Young; 2. Dr. Johnson ; 3. Pope; 4. Prior; 5. Sewell ; 
6. Spenser; 7. Daniell ; 8. Sir Walter Raleigh; 9. Longfellow; 
IO. Southwell; n. Congreve ; 12. Churchill; 13. Rochester; 14. 
Armstrong; 15. Milton; 16. Bailey; 17. Trench; 18. Somer- 
ville ; 19. Thomson; 20. Byron; 21. Smollett; 22. Crabbe ; 23. 
Massinger ; 24. Cowley ; 25. Beattie ; 26. Cowper ; 27. Sir Wal- 
ter Davenant ; 28. Gray; 29. Willis; 30. Addison ; 31. Dryden ; 
32. Francis Quarles ; 33. Watkins ; 34. Herrick ; 35. William 
Mason; 36. Hill; 37. Dana; 38. Shakespeare. 

[ 172] 

C en tones 

15. Live well; how long or short, permit to Heaven; 

1 6. They who forgive us most, shall be most for- 


17. Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see its 


1 8. Vile intercourse where virtue has no place. 

19. Then keep each passion down, however dear; 

20. Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear. 

21. Her sensual snares, let faithless pleasure lay, 

22. With craft and skill, to ruin and betray; 

23. Soar not too high to fall, but stoop to rise. 

24. We masters grow of all that we despise. 

25. Oh, then, I renounce that impious self-esteem; 

26. Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream. 

27. Think not ambition wise because 'tis brave, 

28. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

29. What is ambition? 'tis a glorious cheat! 

30. Only destructive to the brave and great. 

31. What's all the gaudy glitter of a crown ? 

32. The way to bliss lies not on beds of down. 

33. How long we live, not years but actions tell; 

34. That man lives twice who lives the first life well. 

35. Make, then, while yet we may, your God your 


36. Whom Christians worship yet not comprehend. 

37. The trust that's given guard, and to yourself 

be just; 

38. For, live we how we can, yet die we must. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


1. I only knew she came and went, 

2. Like troutlets in a pool; 

3. She was a phantom of delight, 

4. And I was like a fool. 

5. "One kiss, dear maid," I said, and sighed, 

6. Out of those lips unshorn. 

7. She shook her ringlets round her head 

8. And laughed in merry scorn. 

9. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 

10. You heard them, O my heart; 

11. 'Tis twelve at night by the castle clock, 

12. Beloved we must part. 

13. "Come back, come back!" she cried in grief, 

14. My eyes are dim with tears 

15. How shall I live through all the days? 

1 6. All through a hundred years? 

17. 'Twas in the prime of summer-time, 

1 8. She blessed me with her hand; 

* i. Powell; 2. Hood; 3. Wordsworth; 4. Eastman; 5. Cole- 
ridge; 6. Longfellow; 7. Stoddard ; 8. Tennyson; 9. Tennyson; 
10. Alice Gary; n. Coleridge; 12. Alice Gary; 13. Campbell; 
14. Bayard Taylor ; 15. Osgood ; 16. T. S. Perry; 17. Hood; 
1 8. Hoyt ; 19. Edwards; 20. Cornwall; 21. Patmore ; 22. Bayard 
Taylor; 23. Tennyson; 24. Read; 25. Browning; 26. Smith; 
27. Coleridge; 28. Wordsworth; 29. Coleridge; 30. Hervey ; 31 
Wordsworth ; 32. Osgood. 


C en tones 

19. We strayed together, deeply blest, 

20. Into the dreaming land. 

21. The laughing bridal roses blow, 

22. To dress her dark brown hair; 

23. My heart is breaking with my woe, 

24. Most beautiful! most rare! 

25. I clasped it on her sweet, cold hand, 

26. The precious golden link! 

27. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, 

28. "Drink, pretty creature, drink!" 

29. And so I won my Genevieve, 

30. And walked in Paradise; 

31. The fairest thing that ever grew 

22. Atween me and the skies! * 

A nonymous. 


GLORIOUS devil, large in heart and brain, 
Doomed for a certain term to walk the 

The world forsaking with a calm disdain, 
Majestic rises on th' astonished sight. 

.. Tennyson; 2. Shakespeare; 3. Thomson; 4. Take; 5. 
Wordsworth ; 6. Pope ; 7. Graham ; 8. Cowper ; 9. Beattie ; 
10. Rogers; n. Hemans; 12. Collins; 13. Longfellow; 14. Prior; 
15. Beattie; 16. Burns; 17. Wordsworth; 18. Hemans; 19; 
Crabbe ; 20. Chaucer; 21. Collins; 22. Beattie; 23. Gray; 24. 
Campbell; 25. Bloomfield; 26. Goldsmith; 27. Rogers; 28. Burns; 
29. Bloomfield; 30. Byron; 31. Falconer; 32. Thomson; 33. 
jjoanna Baillie ; 34. Byron ; 35. Shelley; 36. Euripides ; 37. Beattie; 
38. Hemans; 39. Shakespeare; 40. H. Smith. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Type of the wise who soar, but never roam, 
Mark how it mounts to man's imperial race! 

High is his perch, but humble is his home, 
Fast anchored in the deep abyss of space. 

And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb, 
Where Punch and Scaramouch aloft are seen, 

Where Science mounts in radiant car sublime, 
And twilight fairies tread the circled green. 

And, borne aloft by the sustaining blast, 

Whom no man fully sees, and none can see, 

'Wildered and weary, sits him down at last, 
Beneath the shelter of an aged tree. 

I will not stop to tell how far he fled, 
To view the smile of evening on the sea; 

He tried to smile, and, half succeeding, said, 
"I smell a loller in the wind," said he. 

"What if the lion in his rage I meet?" 

(The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.) 

The scourge of Heaven! what terrors round him 

From planet whirled to planet more remote. 

Thence higher still, by countless steps conveyed, ;? 

Remote from towns he ran his godly race; 
He lectured every youth that round him played 

The jostling tears ran down his honest face. 



C ent one s 

\nother spring!" his heart exulting cries. 
Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force; 
milk-white lion of tremendous size 
Lays him along the snows a stiffened corse. 

{The haycock rises, and the frequent rake 

Looks on the bleeding foe that made him bleed; 

iAnd the green lizard and the golden snake 
Pause at the bold irrevocable deed. 

Will ye one transient ray of gladness dart, 
To bid the genial tear of pity flow ? 

By Heaven! I would rather coin my heart, 
Or Mr. Miller's, commonly called Joe! 




ADY Clara Vere de Vere 
Was eight years old she said: 
Every ringlet, lightly shaken, ran 
itself in golden thread. 

She took her little porringer: 
Of me she shall not win renown: 
"or the baseness of its nature shall have strength 
to drag her down. 

"Sisters and brothers, little Maid? 
There stands the Inspector at thy door: 
e a dog, he hunts for boys who know not two 
and two are four." 

* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

"Kind words are more than coronets," 
She said, and wondering looked at me: 
'It is the dead unhappy night, and I must hurry 
home to tea." 

Lewis Carroll. 


T IVES there a man with soul so dead 
Who never to himself has said, 

"Shoot folly as it flies"? 
Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, 
Are in that word, farewell, farewell! 
'Tis folly to be wise. 

And what is friendship but a name, 
That boils on Etna's breast of flame? 

Thus runs the world away. 
Sweet is the ship that's under sail 
To where yon taper cheers the vale, 

With hospitable ray! 

Drink to me only with thine eyes 
Through cloudless climes and starry skies! 
My native land, good night! 
Adieu, adieu, my native shore; 
'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more 
Whatever is, is right! 

Laman BlancharJ,' 




(Read down or across) 

hold for sound faith What England's church allows, 

'hat Rome's faith saith My conscience disavows, 

ff here the king's head The flock can take no shame 

he flock's misled Who hold the Pope supreme. 

fhere the altar's dressed The worship's scarce divine 

Ipe people's blessed, Whose table's bread and wine, 

He's but an ass Who their communion flies 

[ho shuns the mass Is catholic and wise. 



(Read down or across) 

I love with all my heart The Tory party here 

oe Hanoverian part Most hateful do appear 

id for the Settlement I ever have denied 

Ijy conscience gives consent To be on James's side 

bst righteous in the cause To fight for such a king 

\ fight for George's laws Will England's ruin bring 

is my mind and heart In this opinion I 

ough none will take my part Resolve to live and die." 


A Whimsey Anthology 


(Read down or across) 

Hurrah for 


We fight for 

The Confederacy 

We love 

The rebellion 

We glory in 


We fight not for 


We must succeed 

The Union 

We love not 

We never said 

We want 

Foreign intervention 

We cherish 

The stars and bars 

We venerate 

Southern chivalry 

Death to 

Abe Lincoln 

Down with 

Law and order 

The old Union 

Is a curse 

The Constitution 

Is a league with hell 

Free speech 

Is treason 

A free press 

Will not be tolerated 

The negro's freedom 

Must be obtained 

At every hazard 

We love 

The negro 

Let the Union slide 

The Union as it was 

Is played out 

The old flag 

Is a flaunting lie 

The habeas corpus 

Is hateful 

JeflF Davis 

Isn't the Government 

Mob law 

Shall triumph. 



Jesuitical Verses 


(Read alternate lines) 


man must lead a happy life 
Who's free from matrimonial chains, 
Who is directed by a wife 

Is sure to suffer for his pains. 

Adam could find no solid peace 
When Eve was given for a mate; 

Until he saw a woman's face 
Adam was in a happy state. 

In all the female race appear 

Hypocrisy, deceit, and pride; 
Truth, darling of a heart sincere, 

In woman never did reside. 

What tongue is able to unfold 

The failings that in woman dwell? 

The worth in woman we behold 
Is almost imperceptible. 

Confusion take the man, I say, 
Who changes from his singleness, 

Who will not yield to woman's sway 
Is sure of earthly blessedness. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


(Read with a comma after the first noun in each line) 

I saw a peacock ,with a fiery tail 
I saw a blazing, comet ^pour down hail 
I saw a cloud all wrapt with ivy round 
I saw a lofty oak creep on the ground 
I saw a beetle swallow up a whale 
I saw a foaming sea brimful of ale 
saw a pewter cup sixteen feet deep 
saw a well full of men's tears that weep 
saw wet eyes in flames of living fire 
saw a house as high as the moon and higher 
saw the glorious sun at deep midnight 
saw the man who saw this wondrous sight. 

I saw a pack of cards gnawing a bone 
I saw a dog seated on Britain's throne 
I saw King George shut up within a box 
I saw an orange driving a fat ox 
I saw a butcher not a twelvemonth old 
I saw a great-coat all of solid gold 
I saw two buttons telling of their dreams 
I saw my friends who wished I'd quit these themes. 






ASKED of Echo, t'other day 

(Whose words are often few and funny), 
What to a novice she could say 

Of courtship, love, and matrimony. 
Quoth Echo plainly, " Matter-o'-money ! " 

Whom should I marry? Should it be 

A dashing damsel, gay and pert, 
A pattern of inconstancy; 

Or selfish, mercenary flirt ? 

Quoth Echo, sharply, "Nary flirt!" 

What if, aweary of the strife 

That long has lured the dear deceiver, 
She promise to amend her life, 

And sin no more; can I believe her? 

Quoth Echo, very promptly, "Leave her!" 

But if some maiden with a heart 
On me should venture to bestow it, 

Pray, should I act the wiser part 
To take the treasure or forego it ? 
Quoth Echo, with decision, "Go it!" 

A IV him s ey Anthology 

But what if, seemingly afraid 

To bind her fate in Hymen's fetter, 

She vow she means to die a maid, 
In answer to my loving letter ? 
Quoth Echo, rather coolly, "Let her!" 

What if, in spite of her disdain, 

I find my heart intwined about 
With Cupid's dear delicious chain 

So closely that I can't get out? 

Quoth Echo, laughingly, "Get out!" 

But if some maid with beauty blest, 

As pure and fair as Heaven can make her, 

Will share my labor and my rest 

Till envious Death shall overtake her? 
Quoth Echo (sotto voce), "Take her!" 

John G. Saxe. 


WHAT wantest thou, that thou art in this 
sad taking? 

Echo: A king. 
What made him first remove hence his residing? 

Did any here deny him satisfaction? 

Tell me wherein the strength of faction lies ? 

On lies. 

What didst thou when the king left his Parlia- 
ment ? 


Echo Verses 

What terms wouldst give to gain his company? 


What wouldst thou do if here thou mightst be- 
hold him ? 

Hold him. 

But wouldst thou save him with thy best endeav- 
our ? 


But if he comes not, what becomes of London ? 




T^CHO, tell me, while I wander 

O'er this fairy plain to prove him, 
If my shepherd still grows fonder, 
Ought I in return to love him? 
Echo: Love him, love him! 

If he loves, as is the fashion, 

Should I churlishly forsake him? 

Or in pity to his passion, 

Fondly to my bosom take him? 
Echo: Take him, take him! 

Thy advice then, I'll adhere to, 

Since in Cupid's chains I've led him; 
And with Henry shall not fear to 
Marry, if you answer, "Wed him!" 
Echo: Wed him, wed him! 




FELIS sedit by a hole, 
Interne she, cum omni soul, 

Predere rats. 

Mice cucurrerunt trans the floor. 
In numero duo tres or more, 
Obliti cats. 

Felis saw them oculis, 

"I'll have them/' inquit she, "I guess, 

Dum ludunt." 

Tune ilia crepit toward the group, 
"Habeam" dixit, "good rat soup 

Pingues sunt." 

Mice continued all ludere, 
Intenti they in ludum vere, 


Tune rushed the felis into them, 
Et tore them omnes limb from limb, 



Macaronic Poetry 


Mures omnes, nunc be shy, 
Et aurem praebe mihi 


Sic hoc satis "verbum sat," 
Avoid a whopping Thomas cat 


Green Kendnck. 



N candent ire the solar splendour flames; 

The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames; 
His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes, 
And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes. 

How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, 
Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, 
Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, 
And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine! 

To me, alas! no verdurous visions come, 
Save yon exiguous pool's conferva-scum 
No concave vast repeats the tender hue 
That laves my milk-jug with celestial blue. 

Me wretched! let me curr to quercine shades! 
Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids! 
Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous clump, 
Depart be off, excede, evade, crump ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 


A Whimsey Anthology 



E meme vieux coon n'est pas quite mort, 

II n'est pas seulement napping: 
Je pense, myself, unless j'ai tort, 
Cette chose est yet to happen. 

En dix-huit forty-four, je sais, 

Vous'll hear des curious noises; 
He'll whet ses dents against some Clay, 

Et scare des Loco Bois-es! 

You know qui quand il est awake, 
Et quand il scratch ses clawses, 

Les Locos dans leurs souliers shake, 
Et, sheepish, hang leurs jaws-es. 

Ce meme vieux coon je ne sais pas why, 

Le mischief's come across him, 
II fait believe he's going to die, 

Quand seulement playing 'possum. 

Mais wait till nous le want encore, 

Nous'll stir him with une pole; 
He'll bite as mauvais as before 

Nous pulled him de son hole! 



Macaronic Poetry 


RMA virumque cano qui primo solebo peep- 


Jam nunc cum tabbynox languet to but- 
ton her eyelids, 
Cum pointers et spaniels campos sylvasque per- 

Vos mihi Brontothesi over arms small and great 

Date spurs to dull poet qui dog Latin carmina 


Artibus atque novis audax dum sportsman I follow 
Per stubbles et turnips et tot discrimina rerum, 
Dum partridge with popping terrificare minantur 
Pauci, namque valent a feather tangere plumbo! 
Carmina si hang fire discharge them bag-piping 

Te quoque, magne cleator, te memorande pre- 

Jam nunc thy fame gallops super Garamantos et 

Nam nabobs nil nisi de brimstone et charcoal 


Horriferifizque "Tippoo" sulphurea, sustinet arma. 
Induit ecce shooter tunicam made of neat marble 

Quae bene convenient defluxit to the waistband 

of breeches, 
Nunc paper et powder et silices popped in the 



A Whimsey Anthology 

Immemor haud shot-bag graditur comitatus two 


Mellorian retinens tormentum dextra bibarelled: 
En stat staunch dog Dingo haud aliter quam 

steady guide post, 

Proximus atque Pero per stat si ponere juxta, 
With gun cocked and levelled at aeva lumineclauso, 
Nunc avicida resolves haud double strong par- 
cere powder. 

Van teneri yelpers vos grandivique parentes 
Nunc palsy pate Jove orate to dress to the left 

Et Veneri tip the wink like a shot to skim down 

ab alto 

Mingere per touch-hole totamque madescere prim- 

Nunc lugete dire nunc sportsman plangite palmas, 
Ex silis ecce lepus from box cum thistle aperto! 
Bang bellowed both barrels, heu! pronus sterni- 

tur each dog, 

Et puss in the interim creeps away sub tegmine 



LADY! formosissima tu! 
Caeruleis oculis have you, 

Ditto nose! 

Et vous n'avez pas une faute 
And that you are going to vote, 
Goodness knows! 

[ 190] 

Macaronic Poetry 

And the roseus on your cheek, 
And your Algebra and Greek, 

Are parfait! 
And your jactus oculi 
Knows each star that shines in the 

Milky Way! 

You have pouting, piquant lips, 
Sans doute vous pouvez an eclipse 


Ne Caerulum colorantur, 
I should have in you, instanter, 

Met my fate! 

Si, by some arrangement dual, 

I at once were Kant and Whewell; 

It would pay 
Procus noti then to come 
To so sweet an Artium 

Magistra ! 

Or, Jewel of Consistency, 

Si possem clear-starch, cookere, 

Votre learning 

Might the leges proscribere 
Do the pro patria mori, 

I, the churning! 



A Whimsey Anthology 



N tempus old a hero lived, 

Qui loved puellas deux; 
He ne pouvait pas quite to say 
Which one amabat mieux. 

Dit-il lui-meme, un beau matin, 
Non 'possum both avoir, 

Sed si address Amanda Ann, 
Then Kate and I have war. 

Amanda habet argent coin, 
Sed Kate has aureas curls; 

Et both sunt very d<ya6a, 
Et quite Formosa girls. 

Enfin, the youthful anthropos, 

<&i\ovv the duo maids, 
Resolved proponere ad Kate 

Devant cet evening's shades. 

Procedens then to Kate's domo, 
II trouve Amanda there; 

Kcu quite forgot his good resolves 
Both sunt so goodly fair. 

Sed, smiling on the new tapis, 
Between the puellas twain, 

Coepit to tell his flame to Kate 
Dans un poetique strain. 
[ 192 ] 

Macaronic Poetry 

Mais, glancing ever and anon 

At fair Amanda's eyes, 
Illae non possunt dicere, 

Pro which he meant his sighs. 

Each virgo heard the demi vow 
With cheeks as rouge as wine, 

And offering each a milk-white hand, 
Both whispered, "Ich bin dein!" 




TACK cum amico Jill, 
Ascendit super montem; 
Johannes cecedit down the hill, 
Ex forte fregit frontem. 



Parvula Bo-peep 

Amisit her sheep, 
Et nescit wl\ere to find 'em; 

Desere alone, 

Et venient home., 
Cum omnibus caudis behind 'em. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


Parvus Jacobus Horner 

Sedebat in corner, 
Edens a Christmas pie; 

Inferuit thumb, 

Extraherit plum 
damans, "Quid sharp puer am I!" 

A nonymousl 





HAVE a horse a ryghte good horse 

Ne doe I envie those 
Who scoure ye plaine in headie course, 

Tyll soddaine on theyre nose 
They lyghte wyth unexpected force 
It ys a horse of clothes. 

I have a saddel "Say'st thou soe? 

With styrruppes, Knyghte, to boote?" 
I sayde not that I answere "Noe"- 

Yt lacketh such, I woot 
It ys a mutton-saddel, loe! 

Parte of ye fleecie brute. 

I have a bytte ayghte good bytte 

As schall bee scene in tyme. 
Ye jawe of horse yt wyll not fytte 

Yts use ys more sublyme. 
Fayre Syr, how deemest thou of yt ? 

Yt ys thys bytte of rhyme. 

Lewis Carroll. 

* By permission of the Macmillan Company. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


SAWE a Mayd sitte on a Bank, 
Beguiled by wooer fayne and fond! 
And whiles His flatterynge Vowes She drank 
Her Nurselynge slipt within a Pond! 

All Even Tide they Talkde and Kist, 
For She was Fayre and He was Kinde; 
The Sunne went down before She wist 
Another Sonne had sett behinde! 

With angrie Hands and frownynge Browe, 
That deemed Her own the Urchine's Sinne, 
She pluckt Him out, but he was nowe 
Past being Whipt for fallynge in. 

She then beginnes to wayle the Ladde 
With Shrikes that Echo answered round 
O foolishe Mayd! to be soe sadde 
The Momente that her care was drownd! 

Thomas Hood. 


JAMIE lad, I lo'e ye weel, 
Jamie lad, I lo'e nae ither, 
Jamie lad, I lo'e ye weel, 
Like a mither. 

* From " More Misrepresentative Men," copyrighted, 1905, by 
Fox, Duffield & Co. 


Linguistic and Dialectic Verse 

Jamie's ganging doon the burn, 
Jamie's ganging doon, whateffer, 
Jamie's ganging doon the burn, 
To Strathpeffer! 

Jamie's comin' hame to dee, 
Jamie's comin' hame, I'm thinkin', 
Jamie's comin' hame to dee, 

Dee o' drinkin'! 

Hech! Jamie! Losh! Jamie! 

Dinna greet sae sair! 
Gin ye canna, winna, shanna 
See yer lassie mair! 

Wha' hoo! 
Wha' hae! 

The queys are moopin' i' the mirk, 
An' gin ye thole abin' the kirk, 
I'll gar ye tocher hame fra' work, 

Sae straught an' prinsie; 
In vain the lavrock leaves the snaw, 
The sonsie cowslips blithely blaw, 
The elbucks wheep adoon the shaw, 

Or warl a whimsy, 

The cootie muircocks crousely craw, 
The maukins tak' their fud fu' braw, 
I gie their wanes a random paw, 
For a' they're skilpy; 

[ 197] 

A Whimsey Anthology 

For wha' sae glaikit, gleg an' din, 
To but the ben, or loup the linn, 
Or scraw aboon the tirlin'-pin 
Sae frae an* gilpie ? 

Och, snood the sporran roun' ma lap, 
The cairngorm clap in ilka cap, 
Och, hand me o'er 
Ma lang claymore, 
Twa bannocks an' a bap, 

Wha hoo! 
Twa bannocks an' a bap! 

Captain Harry Graham. 


QUAND VILLIKINS se promenait dans son 
jardin un matin, 
II decouvrit La Belle Dinah etendue sur 

son chemin, 

Une tasse de soupe poisonnee froide dans sa main 
Et un billet-doux lisant qu'elle s'etait suicidee 

Le corpus rigide il 1'embrassait mille fois; 
D'etre separe de sa Dinah il ne 1'endurait pas; 
II avalait le reste de la soupe execrable 
Et fut enteire de suite avec sa Dinah aimable. 

* From " Blown Away," by Richard Mansfield, copyrighted, 1897, 
by L. C. Page & Co. (Inc.). 


Linguistic and Dialectic Verse 

Entendez bien la morale de ma plainte: 
D'un amant vulgaire il se change done en saint, 
Et pour toute demoiselle qui se tue par amour, 
Qu'il meurt en martyr un jeune bel-homme 


Richard Mansfield. 


AMAYDE ther was, semely and meke enow 
She sate a-milken of a purpil Cowe; 
Rosy hire cheke as in the Month of Maye 
And sikerly her merry Songe was gay 
As of the Larke vprist, washen in Dewe; 
Like Shene of Sterres sperkled hire Eyen two. 
Now came ther by that Way, a hendy Knight 
The Mayde espien in morwening Light. 
A faire Perfon he was of Corage trewe 
With lusty Berd and Chekes of rody Hewe; 
Dere Ladye (quod he) far and wide I've straied 
Uncouthe Aventure in strange Contree made 
Fro Benvike vnto Ware. Parde I vowe 
Erewhiles I never sawe a purpil Cowe! 
Fayn wold I knowe how Catel thus can be? 
Tel me I praie you, of yore Courtesie! 
The Mayde hire Milken stent. Goode Sir she faide 
The Master's Mandement on vs ylaid 
Decrees that in these yclept gilden Houres 
Hys Kyne shall etc of nought but Vylet Floures! 

Carolyn Wells. 

[ 199] 

A Whims ey Anthology 


JE suis le frere 
Du bon cocher; 
Ou est sa mere? 
Je suis le frere. 
Tu es le pere 
Je suis le frere 
Du jardinier 
Du bon cocher. 

Ou est mon canif ? 
J'ai perdu ma chatte. 
Je veux du rosbif. 
Ou est mon canif? 
J'ai tue le Juif. 
Faut-il qu'on se batte? 
Ou est mon canif? 
J'ai perdu ma chatte. 

La belle cousine 
Du fils de ma bru 
Vit dans ma cuisine, 
La belle cousine! 
Ta laide voisine 
N'a jamais connu 
La belle cousine 
Du fils de ma bru. 

J. K. Stephen. 

[ 20O ] 

Linguistic and Dialectic Verse 


(An unpublished poem by Burns) 

OMICKLE yeuks the keckle doup, 
An* a' unsicker girns the graith, 
For wae and wae! the crowdies loup 

O'er jouk an' hallan, braw an* baith 
Where ance the coggie hirpled fair, 

And blithesome poortith toomed the loof, 
There's nae a burnie giglet rare 
But blaws in ilka jinking coof. 

The routhie bield that gars the gear 

Is gone where glint the pawky een. 
And aye the stound is birkin lear 

Where sconnered yowies wheeped yestreen, 
The creeshie rax wi' skelpin' kaes 

Nae mair the howdie bicker whangs, 
Nor weanies in their wee bit claes 

Glour light as lammies wi' their sangs. 

Yet leeze me on my bonny byke! 

My drappie aiblins blinks the noo. 
An' leesome luve has lapt the dyke 

Forgatherin' just a wee bit fou. 
And Scotia ! while thy rantin' lunt 

Is mirk and moop with gowans fine, 
I'll stowlins pit my unco brunt, 

An' cleek my duds for auld lang syne. 

[201 ] 


A Whimsey Anthology 


RUSSIAN sailed over the blue Black Sea 

Just when the war was growing hot, 
And he shouted, "I'm Tjalikavakeree 

A Turk was standing upon the shore 

Right where the terrible Russian crossed; 
And he cried, "Bismillah! I'm Abd el Kor 


So they stood like brave men, long and well, 

And they called each other their proper names, 
Till the lockjaw seized them, and where they fell 
They buried them both by the Irdosholames 

Robert J. Burdette. 

[ 202 ] 




PRETTY deer is dear to me, 

A hare with downy hair, 
A hart I love with all my heart, 
But barely bear a bear. 

'Tis plain that no one takes a plane, 

To have a pair of pears, 
Although a rake may take a rake, 

To tear away the tares. 

A scribe in writing right may write, 
May write and still be wrong; 

For write and rite are neither right, 
And don't to right belong. 

Robertson is not Robert's son, 
Nor did he rob Hurt's son, 

Yet Robert's sun is Robin's sun, 
And everybody's sun. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Beer often brings a bier to man, 

Coughing a coffin brings, 
And too much ale will make us ail, 

As well as other things. 

The person lies who says he lies, 

When he is not reclining; 
And when consumptive folk decline, 

They all decline declining. 

Quails do not quail before the storm, 

A bow will bow before it; 
We cannot rein the rain at all 

No earthly power reigns o'er it. 

The dyer dyes a while, then dies 

To dye he's always trying; 
Until upon his dying bed 

He thinks no more of dyeing. 

A son of Mars mars many a son, 
And Deys must have their days; 

And every knight should pray each night 
To Him who weighs his ways. 

Tis meet that man should mete out meat 

To feed one's future son; 
The fair should fare on love alone, 

Else one cannot be won. 

Punning Whimseys 

The springs shoot forth each spring, and shoots 

Shoot forward one and all; 
Though summer kills the flowers, it leaves 

The leaves to fall in fall. 

I would a story here commence, 

But you might think it stale; 
So we'll suppose that we have reached 

The tail end of our tale. 



(A Ballad) 


N Attorney was taking a turn, 

In shabby habiliments drest; 
His coat it was shockingly worn. 
And the rust had invested his vest. 

His breeches had suffered a breach, 
His linen and worsted were worse; 

He had scarce a whole crown in his hat. 
And not half-a-crown in his purse. 

And thus as he wandered along, 
A cheerless and comfortless elf, 

He sought for relief in a song, 

Or complainingly talked to himself: 


A Whimsey Anthology 

"Unfortunate man that I am! 

I've never a client but grief; 
The case is, I've no case at all, 

And in brief, I've ne'er had a brief! 

"I've waited and waited in vain, 
Expecting an 'opening' to find, 

Where an honest young lawyer might gain 
Some reward for the toil of his mind. 

"Tis not that I'm wanting in law, 

Or lack an intelligent face, 
That others have cases to plead, 

While I have to plead for a case. 

"Oh, how can a modest young man, 
E'er hope for the smallest progression 

The profession's already so full 
Of lawyers so full of profession ! " 

While thus he was strolling around, 

His eye accidentally fell 
On a very deep hole in the ground, 

And he sighed to himself, "It is well!" 

To curb his emotions, he sat 

On the curb-stone the space of a minute, 
Then cried, "Here's an opening at last!" 

And in less than a jiffy was in it! 

Next morning twelve citizens came 

('Twas the coroner bade them attend), 

To the end that it might be determined 
How the man had determined his end! 


Punning JVhimseys 

"The man was a lawyer, I hear," 

Quoth the foreman who sat on the corse; 

"A lawyer? Alas!*' said another, 
"Undoubtedly died of remorse!" 

A third said, "He knew the deceased, 
An attorney well versed in the laws, 

And as to the cause of his death, 

'Twas no doubt from the want of a cause." 

The jury decided at length, 

After solemnly weighing the matter, 

"That the lawyer was drownded, because 
He could not keep his head above water!" 

'John G. Saxe. 


(As written by a learned scholar of the city from 
knowledge derived from etymological deductions rather 
than from actual experience) 

I WOULD flee from the city's rule and law, 
From its fashion and form cut loose, 
And go where the strawberry grows on its 


And the gooseberry on its goose; 
Where the catnip tree is climbed by the cat 

As she crouches for her prey 
The guileless and unsuspecting rat 
On the rattan bush at play. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

I will watch at ease for the saffron cow 

And the cowlet in their glee, 
As they leap in joy from bough to bough 

On the top of the cowslip tree; 
Where the musical partridge drums on his drum, 

And the woodchuck chucks his wood, 
And the dog devours the dog-wood plum 

In the primitive solitude. 

And then to the whitewashed dairy I'll turn, 

Where the dairymaid hastening hies, 
Her ruddy and golden-haired butter to churn 

From the milk of her butterflies; 
And I'll rise at morn with the early bird, 

To the fragrant farm-yard pass, 
When the farmer turns his beautiful herd 

Of grasshoppers out to grass. 



OH, where the white quince blossom swings 
I love to take my Japan ease! 
I love the maid Anise who clings 
So lightly on my Japan knees; 
I love the little song she sings, 

The little love-song Japanese. 
I almost love the lute's tink-tunkle 

Played by that charming Jap Anise 
For am I not her old Jap uncle? 
And is she not my Japan niece? 

Oliver Her ford. 

* From " The Bashful Earthquake," published by Charles Scribner's 


Punning IV hints eys 


T/"NOWS he that never took a pinch, 

Nosey, the pleasure thence which flows, 
Knows he the titillating joys 
Which my nose knows? 

Nose, I am as proud of thee 
As any mountain of its snows, 

1 gaze on thee, and feel that pride 

A Roman knows! 

Alfred A. Forrester (Alfred Crowquil). 


A CAT I sing, of famous memory, 
Though catachrestical my song may be; 
In a small garden catacomb she lies, 
And cataclysms fill her comrades' eyes; 
Borne on the air, the catacoustic song, 
Swells with her virtues' catalogue along; 
No cataplasm could lengthen out her years, 
Though mourning friends shed cataracts of tears. 
Once loud and strong her catechist-like voice 
It dwindled to a catcall's squeaking noise; 
Most categorical her virtues shone, 
By catenation join'd each one to one; 
But a vile catchpoll dog, with cruel bite, 
Like catling's cut, her strength disabled quite; 

A Whimsey Anthology 

Her caterwauling pierced the heavy air, 

As cataphracts their arms through legions bear; 

'Tis vain! as caterpillars drag away 

Their lengths, like cattle after busy day, 

She ling'ring died, nor left in kit-kat the 

Embodyment of this catastrophe. 

Cruikskank's Omnibus. 


WITH tragic air the love-lorn heir 
Once chased the chaste Louise; 
She quickly guessed her guest was there 
To please her with his pleas. 

Now at her side he kneeling sighed, 

His sighs of woeful size; 
"Oh, hear me here, for lo, most low 

I rise before your eyes. 

"This soul is sole thine own, Louise 

'Twill never wean, I ween, 
The love that I for aye shall feel, 

Though mean may be its mien ! " 

"You know I cannot tell you no," 

The maid made answer true; 
"I love you aught, as sure I ought 

To you 'tis due I do!" 

Punning Whimseys 

"Since you are won, oh fairest one, 

The marriage rite is right 
The chapel aisle I'll lead you up 

This night," exclaimed the knight. 




B 1 


)E brave, faint heart, 

The dough shall yet be cake; 
Be strong, weak heart, 

The butter is to come. 

Some cheerful chance will right the apple-cart, 
The devious pig will gain the lucky mart, 
Loquacity be dumb, 
Collapsed the fake. 
Be brave, faint heart! 

Be strong, weak heart, 

The path will be made plain; 
Be brave, faint heart, 

The bore will crawl away. 
The upside down will turn to right side up, 
The stiffened lip compel that slipping cup, 
The doldrums of the day 
Be not in vain. 
Be strong, weak heart! 

Be brave, faint heart, 

The jelly means to jell; 
Be strong, weak heart, 

The hopes are in the malt. 
[212 ] 


The wrong side in will yet turn right side out, 
The long-time lost come down yon cormorant spout. 
Life still is worth her salt: 
What ends well's well. 
Be brave, faint heart! 



OH, Mary had a little lamb, regarding whose 
The fluff exterior was white and kinked in 

each particular. 

( )n each occasion when the lass was seen per- 
The little quadruped likewisewas there a gallivating. 

One day it did accompany her to the knowledge 

Which to every rule and precedent was recklessly 


Immediately whereupon the pedagogue superior, 
Exasperated, did eject the lamb from the interior. 

Then Mary, on beholding such performance 

Suffused her eyes with saline drops from glands 
called lachrymary, 

And all the pupils grew thereat tumultuously hilari- 

And speculated on the case with wild conjectures 


A Whimsey Anthology 

"What makes the lamb love Mary so ?" the scholars 

asked the teacher. 
He paused a moment, then he tried to diagnose the 


"Oh pecus amorem Mary habit omnia temporum." 
"Thanks, teacher dear," the scholars cried, and 

awe crept darkly o'er 'em. 



OCINTILLATE scintillate, globule orific, 
^^ Fain would I fathom thy nature's specific. 
Loftily poised in ether capacious, 
Strongly resembling a gem carbonaceous. 

When torrid Phoebus refuses his presence 
And ceases to lamp with fierce incandescence, 
Then you illumine the regions supernal, 
Scintillate, scintillate, semper nocturnal. 

Then the victim of hospiceless peregrination 
Gratefully hails your minute coruscation. 
He could not determine his journey's direction 
But for your bright scintillating protection. 


Tr a v e s t i e s 


r I A HE beauteous Ethel's father has a 
Newly painted front piazza 
He has a 

When with tobacco juice 'twas tainted 
They had the front piazza painted 
That tainted 
Piazza painted. 

Algernon called that night, perchance, 
Arrayed in comely sealskin pants 

That night, perchance, 

In gorgeous pants; 
Engaging Ethel in a chat 
On that piazza down he sat 

In chat, 

They sat. 

And when an hour or two had pass'd, 
He tried to rise, but oh! stuck fast 

At last 

Stuck fast! 

Fair Ethel shrieked, "It is the paint!" 
And fainted in a deadly faint 

This saint 

Did faint. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Algernon sits there till this day 
He cannot tear himself away, 

Away ? 

Nay, nay! 

His pants are firm, the paint is dry 
He's nothing else to do but die 

To die! 

O my! 

TLugene Field. 


* T T THY do you wear your hair like a man, 
Y/Y Sister Helen? 

This week is the third since you began." 
"I'm writing a ballad; be still if you can, 

Little brother. 

(O Mother Carey, mother! 

What chickens are these between sea and heaven ?) " 

"But why does your figure appear so lean, 

Sister Helen ? 

And why do you dress in sage, sage green?" 
"Children should never be heard, if seen, 

Little brother? 
(O Mother Carey, mother! 
What fowls are a-wing in the stormy heaven!)" 

"But why is your face so yellowy white, 
Sister Helen ? 



And why are your skirts so funnily tight?" 
"Be quiet, you torment, or how can I write, 

Little brother? 

(O Mother Carey, mother! 

How gathers thy train to the sea from the heaven !)' 

"And who's Mother Carey, and what is her train, 

Sister Helen ? 

And why do you call her again and again?" 
"You troublesome boy, why that's the refrain, 

Little brother. 
(O Mother Carey, mother! 
What work is toward in the startled heaven?)" 

"And what's a refrain? What a curious word, 

Sister Helen! 

Is the ballad you're writing about a sea-bird?" 
"Not at all; why should it be? Don't be absurd, 

Little brother. 
(O Mother Carey, mother! 
Thy brood flies lower as lowers the heaven.)" 

(A big brother speaketh:) 
"The refrain you've studied a meaning had, 

Sister Helen! 

It gave strange force to a weird ballad. 
But refrains have become a ridiculous 'fad,' 

Little brother. 

And Mother Carey, mother, 
Has a bearing on nothing in earth or heaven. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

"But the finical fashion has had its day, 

Sister Helen. 

And let's try in the style of a different lay 
To bid it adieu in poetical way, 

Little brother. 
So, Mother Carey, mother! 
Collect your chickens and go to heaven." 

(A pause. Then the big brother singeth, accompany- 
ing himself in a plaintive wise on the triangle.) 

"Look in my face. My name is Used-to-was; 
I am also called Played-out, and Done to Death, 
And It-will-wash-no-more. Awakeneth 
Slowly but sure awakening it has, 
The common-sense of man; and I, alas! 

The ballad-burden trick, now known too well, 
Am turned to scorn, and grown contemptible 
A too transparent artifice to pass. 

"What a cheap dodge I am! The cats who dart 
Tin-kettled through the streets in wild surprise 
Assail judicious ears not otherwise; 
And yet no critics praise the urchin's 'art,' 
Who to the wretched creature's caudal part 
Its foolish empty-jingling * burden' ties." 

H. D. Traill. 




IN heaven a Spirit doth dwell 
Whose heart strings are a fiddle, 
(The reason he sings so well 
This fiddler Israfel), 
And the giddy stars (will any one tell 
Why giddy ?) to attend his spell 
Cease their hymns in the middle. 

On the height of her go 

Totters the Moon, and blushes 
As the song of that fiddle rushes 
Across her bow. 

The red Lightning stands to listen, 
And the eyes of the Pleiads glisten 
As each of the seven puts its fist in 
Its eyes, for the mist in. 

And they say it's a riddle 
That all these listening things, 

That stop in the middle 

For the heart-strung fiddle 
With such the Spirit sings, 

Are held as on the griddle 
By these unusual strings. 

Wherefore thou art not wrong, 
Israfel! in that thou boastest 

Fiddlestrings uncommon strong; 

To thee the fiddlestrings belong 
With which thou toastest 

Other hearts as on a prong. 

A Whimsey Anthology 

Yes! heaven is thine, but this 

Is a world of sours and sweets, 

Where cold meats are cold meats, 
And the eater's most perfect bliss 

Is the shadow of him who treats. 

If I could griddle 
As Israfiddle 

Has griddled he fiddle as I, 
He might not fiddle so wild a riddle 

As this mad melody, 
While the Pleiads all would leave off in the middle 

Hearing my griddle-cry. 



(A Soliloquy) 

I AM a hearthrug 
Yes, a rug- 
Though I cannot describe myself as snug; 
Yet I know that for me they paid a price 
For a Turkey carpet that would suffice 
(But we live in an age of rascal vice). 

Why was I ever woven, 
For a clumsy lout, with a wooden leg, 
To come with his endless Peg! Peg! 

Peg! Peg! 

With a wooden leg, 
Till countless holes I'm drove in. 
[ 220 ] 


("Drove," I have said, and it should be "driven "; 
A heartrug's blunders should be forgiven, 
For wretched scribblers have exercised 

Such endless bosh and clamour, 
So improvidently have improvised, 
That they've utterly ungrammaticised 

Our ungrammatical grammar). 
And the coals 
Burn holes, 

Or make spots like moles, 

And my lily-white tints, as black as your hat turn, 
And the housemaid (a matricide, will-forging 



The rolls 

From the plate, in shoals, 

When they're put to warm in front of the coals; 
And no one with me condoles, 
For the butter stains on my beautiful pattern. 
But the coals and rolls, and sometimes soles, 
Dropp'd from the frying-pan out of the fire, 
Are nothing to raise my indignant ire, 

Like the Peg! Peg! 
Of that horrible man with the wooden leg. 

This moral spread from me, 

Sing it, ring it, yelp it 
Never a hearthrug be, 

That is if you can help it. 



A Whimsey Anthology 



E were crowded in the cabin, 

Not a soul had room to sleep; 
It was midnight on the waters, 
And the banks were very steep. 

'Tis a fearful thing when sleeping 

To be startled by the shock, 
And to hear the rattling trumpet 

Thunder, "Coming to a lock!" 

So we shuddered there in silence, 
For the stoutest berth was shook, 

While the wooden gates were opened 
And the mate talked with the cook. 

And as thus we lay in darkness, 
Each one wishing we were there, 

"We are through!" the captain shouted, 
And he sat down on a chair. 

And his little daughter whispered, 
Thinking that he ought to know, 

"Isn't travelling by canal-boats 
Just as safe as it is slow?" 

Then he kissed the little maiden, 

And with better cheer we spoke, 
And we trotted into Pittsburg, 

When the morn looked through the smoke. 

Phoebe Gary. 
[ 222 ] 



(A Sonnet) 

(Found on the Poet's desk) 

WEARY, I open wide the antique pane 
I ope to the air 
I ope to 
I open to the air the antique pane 

( beyond ? "| 
And gaze < V the thrift-sown fields of 

( across J 
wheat, (commonplace ?) 
A-shimmering green in breezes born of heat; 
And lo! 
And high 

f a? "l 
And my soul's eyes behold < the > billowy main 

Whose further shore is Greece strain 



(Arcadia mythological allusion. Mem.: Lem- 


I see thee, Atalanta, vestal fleet, 
And look ! with doves low-fluttering round her feet, 

( fields of n 

Comes Venus through the golden < > grain 

t bowing J 

* From Poems of H. C. Bunner, by permission of Char'es Scribner's 


A Whimsey Anthology 

(Heard by the Poet's neighbor) 
Venus be bothered it's Virginia Dix! 

(Found on the Poet's door) 
Out on important business back at 6. 

H. C. Bunner. 


(Some distance after Tennyson) 

COME into the Whenceness Which, 
For the fierce Because has flown: 
Come into the Whenceness Which, 

I am here by the Where alone; 
And the Whereas odors are wafted abroad 
Till I hold my nose and groan. 

Queen Which of the Whichbud garden of What's 

Come hither the jig is done. 
In gloss of Isness and shimmer of Was, 

Queen Thisness and Which is one; 
Shine out, little Which, sunning over the bangs, 

To the Nowness, and be its sun. 

There has fallen a splendid tear 

From the Is flower at the fence; 
She is coming, my Which, my dear, 

And as she Whistles a song of the Whence, 
The Nowness cries, "She is near, she is near." 

And the Thingness howls, "Alas!" 
The Whoness murmurs, "Well, I should smile," 

And the Whatlet sobs, "I pass." 

[22 4 ] 



COME mighty Must! 
Inevitable Shall! 
In thee I trust. 

Time weaves my coronal! 
Go mocking Is! 

Go disappointing Was! 
That I am this 

Ye are the cursed cause! 
Yet humble second shall be first, 

I ween; 

And dead and buried be the curst 
Has Been! 

Oh weak Might Be! 

Oh, May, Might, Could, Would, Should! 
How powerless ye 

For evil or for good! 
In every sense 

Your moods I cheerless call, 
Whatever your tense 

Ye are imperfect, all! 
Ye have deceived the trust I've shown 

In ye! 

Away! The Mighty Must alone 
Shall be! 

W. S. Gilbert. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


SHALL we meet again, love, 
In the distant When, love, 
When the Now is Then, love, 

And the Present Past ? 
Shall the mystic Yonder, 
On which I ponder, 
I sadly wonder, 
With thee be cast? 

Ah, the joyless fleeting 
Of our primal meeting, 
And the fateful greeting 

Of the How and Why! 
Ah, the Thingness flying 
From the Hereness, sighing 
For a love undying 

That fain would die! 

Ah, the Ifness sadd'ning, 
The Whichness madd'ning, 
And the But ungladd'ning, 

That lie behind! 
When the signless token 
Of love is broken 
In the speech unspoken 

Of mind to mind! 

* By permission of E. H. Bacon & Co. 



But the mind perceiveth 
When the spirit grieveth, 
And the heart relieveth 

Itself of woe; 

And the doubt-mists lifted 
From the eyes love-gifted 
Are rent and rifted 

In the warmer glow. 

In the inner Me, love, 
As I turn to thee, love, 
I seem to see love, 

No Ego there. 
But the Meness dead, love, 
The Theeness fled, love, 
And born instead, love, 

An Usness rare! 

James Jeffrey Roche. 


(A Lullabylet for a Magazinelet) 

WAN from the wild and woful West 
Sleep, little babe, sleep on! 
Mother will sing to you know the rest 

Sleep, little babe, sleep on! 
Softly the sand steals slowly by, 
Cursed be the curlew's chittering cry; 
By-a-by, oh, by-a-by! 
Sleep, little babe, sleep on! 

* By permission of Harper & Bros. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Rosy and sweet come the hush of night 

Sleep, little babe, sleep on! 
(Twig to the lilt, I have got it all right) 

Sleep, little babe, sleep on! 
Dark are the dark and darkling days 
Winding the webbed and winsome ways, 
Homeward she creeps in dim amaze 

Sleep, little babe, sleep on! 

(But it waked up, drat it!) 

Charles Battell Loomts. 


WUW Wuw Wuw Wuw Wuw Wuw- 
W Waterloo Place ? yes you 
T take the first tut tut tut turning 

that faces you, 

Lul left, and then kuk kuk kuk kuk 
kuk kuk keep up, Pall Mall 'till you 

See the Wuw wuw Wuw Wuw 

Zounds, Sir, you'll get there before I can tell 

H. Cholmondeley-PennelL 

(Epitaph in the Homers field, Eng., Churchyard) 


S I walked by myself, I talked to myself, 
And thus myself said unto me: 
Look to thyself, and take care of thyself, 
For nobody cares for thee." 


Tra v es ties 

So I turned to myself, and answered myself 

In the self-same reverie: 

" Look to thyself or not to thyself, 

The self-same thing it will be." 

Isaac Ross. 


(By a gasper) 

I^HE sextant of the meetinouse, which sweeps 
And dusts, or is supposed too! and makes 

And lites the gas and sometimes leaves a 

screw loose, 

in which case it smells orful worse than lampile; 
And wrings the Bel and toles it when men dyes 
to the grief of survivin pardners, and sweeps pathes; 
And for the servases gits 100 per annum, 
Which them that thinks deer, let em try it; 
Getting up be foar star-lite in all weathers and 
Kindlin-fires when the wether it is cold 
As zero, and like as not green wood for kindlers; 
I wouldn't be hired to do it for no some 
But o sextant! there are I kermoddity 
Which's more than gold, wich doant cost nothin, 
Worth more than anything exsep the Sole of Man. 
i mean pewer Are, sextent, i mean pewer are! 
O it is plenty out o dores, so plenty it doant no 
What on airth to dew with itself, but flys about 
[22 9 ] 

A Whims ey Anthology 

Scaterin levs and bloin of men's hatts; 

in short, jest 'fre as are" out dores. 

But o sextant, in our church its scarce as piety, 

scarce as bank bills wen agints beg for mischuns, 

VVich some say purty often (taint nothin to me, 

Wat I give aint nothin to nobody), but o sextant, 

u shut 500 mens wimmen and children, 

Speshally the latter, up in a tite place, 

Some has bad breths, none aint 2 swete, 

some is fevery, some is scrofilus, some has bad teeth, 

And some haint none, and some aint over clean; 

But every I on em breethes in and out and out and 

Say 50 times a minit, or I million and a half breths 

an our, 
Now how long will a church ful of are last at that 


I ask you, say 15 minutes, and then wats to be did ? 
Why then they must brethe it all over agin. 
And then agin, and so on, till each has took it down, 
At least ten times, and let it up again, and wats more 
The same individible don't have the privilege 
of brethen his own are, and no one's else; 
Each one mus take whatever comes to him. 
O sextant, don't you know our lungs is bellusses, 
To bio the fier of life, and keep it from 
goin out; and how can bellusses blow without wind, 
And aint wind are ? i put it to your conscens. 
Are is the same to us as milk to babes, 
Or water to fish, or pendlums to clox 
Or roots and airbs unto an injun Doctor, 
Or little pils to an omepath, 



Or boys to gurls. Are is for us to brethe, 

Wat signifies who preeches if i cant brethe ? 

Wats Pol ? Wats Pollus ? to sinners who are ded ? 

Ded for want of breth ? why sextant, when we die 

Its only coz we cant brethe no more that's all. 

And now, O sextant, let me beg of you 

2 let a little are into our church. 

(Fewer are is sertin proper for the pews) 

And do it weak days and Sundays tew 

It aint much trouble only make a hole 

And the are will come in itself; 

(It luvs to come in whare it can git warm:) 

And o how it will rouse the people up 

And sperrit up the preacher, and stop garbs, 

And yawns and figgits as effectooal 

As wind on the dry Boans the Profit tells of. 


[231 ] 



UPON a rock, yet uncreate, 
Amid a chaos inchoate, 
An uncreated being sate; 
Beneath him, rock, 
Above him, cloud. 
And the cloud was rock, 
And the rock was cloud. 
The rock then growing soft and warm, 
The cloud began to take a form, 
A form chaotic, vast and vague, 
Which issued in the cosmic egg. 
Then the Being uncreate 
On the egg did incubate, 
And thus became the incubator; 
And of the egg did allegate, 
And thus became the alligator; 
And the incubator was potentate, 
But the alligator was ootentator. 


[ 232 ] 

Technical Whimseys 


of a number: double It 
(If that does not surpass thy wit); 
Subtract a dozen: add a score: 

Divide by twenty: multiply 

By twice the cube of x-f y, 

And half again as many more: 

Then take the twenty-seventh root 

And logarithmic sine to boot, 

And if the answer show 

Just nine times fifty, make it so. 

There's something more than half divine 

In fifty multiplied by nine: 

And never integer has been 

So grand as thirty times fifteen: 

The total I could doubtless praise 

In many other striking ways: 

But this at least is very plain, 

The same will never come again. 

Then make an exhibition please 

And summon guests from far and wide: 

And marry mystic melodies 

To odes instinct with proper pride. 

Invoke the Founder's mighty name, 

And boast of Gray's and Shelley's fame: 


A Whimsey Anthology 

For this is very sure: that he 
Who misses the latest jubilee 
Shall not improbably be vexed 
By missing equally the next. 

Then let us resolutely strive 
This mighty fact to keep alive 
That 5 times 9 is 45; 

And furthermore the truth to fix 
(In their behoof whose course will run 
In June of 1981) 

That 54 is 9 times 6. 

7. K. Stephen. 



LEARN, in Kindergarten, all 
The little things are small. 

And how to fix a thing that winds. 
She says it rests our minds. 

And purple paper weaved with blue 
The next thing is to do. 

And toolyjoor I always learn 
How water will not burn. 

And then we string some yellow straw; 
I wonder what it's for. 


Tech nic al W h im s ey s 

And Teacher makes us muddle clay 
One time each single day; 

And sing about a kitty-cat; 
But never learned me that. 



I LOVE thee, Mary, and thou lovest me 
Our mutual flame is like th' affinity 
That doth exist between two simple bodies; 
I am Potassium to thine Oxygen. 
'Tis little that the holy marriage vow 
Shall shortly make us one. That unity 
Is, after all, but metaphysical. 
Oh, would that I, my Mary, were an acid, 
A living acid; thou an alkali 

Endowed with human sense, that, brought together, 
We both might coalesce into one salt, 
One homogeneous crystal. Oh! that thou 
Wert Carbon, and myself were Hydrogen; 
We would unite to form olefiant gas, 
Or common coal, or naphtha would to Heaven 
That I were Phosphorus, and thou wert Lime! 
And we of Lime composed a Phosphuret. 
I'd be content to be Sulphuric Acid, 
So thou might be Soda; in that case 
We should be Glauber's Salt. Wert thou Magnesia 
Instead, we'd form that's named from Epsom. 
Couldst thou Potassia be, I Aqua-fortis, 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Our happy union should that compound form, 
Nitrate of Potash otherwise Saltpetre. 
And thus our several natures sweetly blent, 
We'd live and love together, until death 
Should decompose that fleshly tertium quid, 
Leaving our souls to all eternity 
Amalgamated. Sweet, thy name is Briggs 
And mine is Johnson. Wherefore should not we i 
Agree to form a Johnsonate of Briggs ? 
We will! The day, the happy day is nigh, 
When Johnson shall with beauteous Briggs com- 



AH! merry is the Madrepore that sits beside the j 
The cheery little Coralline hath many charms 

for me; 
I love the fine Echinoderms, of azure, green, and 

That handled roughly fling their arms impulsively 

Then bring me here the microscope and let me see 

the cells 
Wherein the little Zoophite like garden floweret 


We'll take the fair Anemone from off its rocky seat, 
Since Rondeletius has said when fried 'tis good to 

Tech nic a I W h im s ey s 

Dyspeptics from Sea-Cucumbers a lesson well may 

They blithely take their organs out and put some 

fresh ones in. 
The Rotifer in whirling round may surely bear the 

With Oceanic Hydrozoids that Huxley knows so 


You've heard of the Octopus, 'tis a pleasant thing 

to know 
He has a ganglion makes him blush, not red, but 

white as snow; 
And why the strange Cercaria, to go a long way 


Wears ever, as some ladies do, a fashionable "sac"; 
And how the Pawn has parasites that on his head 

make holes; 
Ask Dr. Cobbold, and he'll say they're just like 

tiny soles. 

Then study well zoology, and add unto your store 

The tale of Biogenesis and Protoplasmic lore; 

As Paley neatly has observed, when into life they 

The frog and the philosopher are just the same at 


But what's the origin of life remains a puzzle still, 
Let Tyndall, Haeckel, Bastian, go wrangle as they 




A Whimsey Anthology 


ACCEPT, dear Miss, this article of mine, 
(For what's indefinite, who can define?) 
My case is singular, my house is rural, 
Wilt thou, indeed, consent to make it plural? 
Something, I feel, pervades my system through. 
I can't describe, yet substantively true, 
Thy form so feminine, thy mind reflective, 
Where all's possessive good, and nought objective. 
I'm positive none can compare with thee 
In wit and worth's superlative degree. 
First person, then, indicative but prove, 
Let thy soft passive voice exclaim, "I love!" 
Active, in cheerful mood, no longer neuter, 
I'll leave my cares, both present, past, and future. 
But ah! what torture must I undergo 
Till I obtain that little "Yes" or "No!" 
Spare me the negative to save compunction, 
Oh, let my preposition meet conjunction! 
What could excite such pleasing recollection, 
At hearing thee pronounce this interjection, 
"I will be thine! thy joys and griefs to share, 
Till Heaven shall please to point a period there!" 





Hear the sledges with the bells 

Silver bells 

What a world of merriment their melody foretells! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 

With a crystalline delight; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 

Bells, bells, bells 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 

Hear the mellow wedding-bells, 

Golden bells! 

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight 
From the molten-golden notes! 

And all in tune, 
What a liquid ditty floats 

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats 
On the moon! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Oh, from out the sounding cells, 
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! 
How it swells! 
How it dwells 
On the Future! how it tells 
Of the rapture that impels 
To the swinging and the ringing 

Of the bells, bells, bells 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 

Bells, bells, bells 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! 

Hear the loud alarum bells 

Brazen bells! 

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! J 
In the startled ear of night 
How they scream out their affright! 
Too much horrified to speak, 
They can only shriek, shriek, 

Out of tune, 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the 

In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic 


Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
With a desperate desire, 
And a resolute endeavour, 
Now now to sit or never, 
By the side of the pale-faced moon. 
Oh, the bells, bells, bells! 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of despair! 


Imitative Harmony 

How they clang, and clash, and roar! 
What a horror they outpour 
On the bosom of the palpitating air! 
Yet the ear, it fully knows, 
By the twanging 
And the clanging, 
How the danger ebbs and flows; 
Yet the ear distinctly tells, 
In the jangling 
And the wrangling, 
How the danger sinks and swells, 
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the 


Of the bells- 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 

Bells, bells, bells- 
In the clamour and the clangour of the bells! 

Hear the tolling of the bells 

Iron bells! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody 


In the silence of the night 
How we shiver with affright 
At the melancholy menace of their tone! 
For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats, 

Is a groan: 

And the people ah, the people 
They that dwell up in the steeple, 
All alone, 

A Whimsey Anthology 

And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, 

In that muffled monotone, 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone 
They are neither man nor woman 
They are neither brute nor human 

They are Ghouls! 
And their king it is who tolls; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls, 

A paean from the bells! 
And his merry bosom swells 

With the paean of the bells! 
And he dances and he yells; 
Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
To the paean of the bells 

Of the bells; 

Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme, 

To the throbbing of the bells 
Of the bells, bells, bells, 

To the sobbing of the bells; 
Keeping time, time, time, 

As he knells, knells, knells, 
In a happy Runic rhyme, 

To the rolling of the bells 
Of the bells, bells, bells 

To the tolling of the bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 

Bells, bells, bells 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 

Edgar Allan Poe. 
[2 4 2] 

Imitative Harmony 


HOW does the water 
Come down at Lodore?" 
My little boy asked me 
Thus, once on a time; 
And moreover he tasked me 
To tell him in rhyme. 

Anon at the word, 
There first came one daughter, 
And then came another, 

To second and third 
The request of their brother, 
And to hear how the water 
Comes down at Lodore, 
With its rush and its roar, 

As many a time 
They had seen it before. 
So I told them in rhyme, 
For of rhymes I had store; 
And 'twas in my vocation 

For their recreation 
That so I should sing; 
Because I was Laureate 
To them and the King. 

From its sources which well 
In the tarn on the fell; 

[243 ] 

A Whimsey Anthology 

From its fountains 
In the mountains, 
Its rills and its gills; 
Through moss and through brake, 

It runs and it creeps 
For a while till it sleeps 
In its own little lake. 
And thence at departing, 
Awakening and starting, 
It runs through the reeds, 
And away it proceeds, 
Through meadow and glade, 

In sun and in shade, 
And through the wood-shelter, 
Among crags in its flurry, 
Here it comes sparkling, 
And there it lies darkling; 
Now smoking and frothing 
Its tumult and wrath in, 
Till, in this rapid race 
On which it is bent, 
It reaches the place 
Of its steep descent. 

The cataract strong 

Then plunges along, 

Striking and raging 

As if a war waging 

Its caverns and rocks among; 

Rising and leaping, 


Imitative Harm ony 

Sinking and creeping, 
Swelling and sweeping, 
Showering and springing, 
Flying and flinging, 
Writhing and wringing, 
Eddying and whisking, 
Spouting and frisking, 
Turning and twisting 
Around and around 
With endless rebound: 
Smiting and fighting, 
A sight to delight in; 
Confounding, astounding, 
Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound. 

Collecting, projecting, 
Receding and speeding, 
And shocking and rocking, 
And darting and parting, 
And threading and spreading, 
And whizzing and hissing, 
And dripping and skipping, 
And hitting and splitting, 
And shining and twining, 
And rattling and battling, 
And shaking and quaking, 
And pouring and roaring, 
And waving and raving, 
And tossing and crossing, 
And flowing and going, 
And running and stunning, 
And foaming and roaming, 


A Whimsey A n't ho logy 

And dinning and spinning, 
And dropping and hopping, 
And working and jerking, 
And guggling and struggling, 
And heaving and cleaving, 
And moaning and groaning; 

And glittering and frittering, 
And gathering and feathering, 
And whitening and brightening. 
And quivering and shivering, 
And hurrying and skurrying, 
And thundering and floundering; 

Dividing and gliding and sliding, 

And falling and brawling and sprawling, 

And driving and riving and striving, 

And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling, 

And sounding and bounding and rounding, 

And bubbling and troubling and doubling, 

And grumbling and rumbling and tumbling, 

And clattering and battering and shattering; 

Retreating and beating and meeting and sheeting, 
Delaying and straying and playing and spraying, 
Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing, 
Recoiling, turmoiling and toiling and boiling, 
And gleaming and streaming and steaming and 


And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing, 
And flapping and rapping and clapping and 



Imitative H arm ony 

And curling and whirling and purling and twirling, 
And thumping and plumping and bumping and 

And dashing and flashing and splashing and 


And so never ending, but always descending, 
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, 
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar, 
And this way the water comes down at Lodore. 

Robert Soutbey. 


A WOMAN is like to but stay 
What a woman is like, who can say ? 
There is no living with or without one. 

Love bites like a fly, 

Now an ear, now an eye, 
Buz, buz, always buzzing about one. 

When she's tender and kind 

She is like to my mind, 
(And Fanny was so, I remember). 

She's like to Oh, dear! 

She's as good, very near, 
As a ripe, melting peach in September. 

If she laugh, and she chat, 

Play, joke, and all that, 
And with smiles and good humor she meet me, 

She's like a rich dish 

Of venison or fish, 
That cries from the table, Come eat me! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

But she'll plague you and vex you, 
Distract and perplex you; 
False-hearted and ranging, 
Unsettled and changing, 
What then do you think, she is like? 

Like sand ? Like a rock ? 

Like a wheel ? Like a clock ? 
Ay, a clock that is always at strike. 
Her head's like the island folks tell on, 
Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on; 
Her heart's like a lemon so nice 
She carves for each lover a slice; 

In truth she's to me, 

Like the wind, like the sea, 
Whose raging will hearken to no man: 

Like a mill, like a pill, 

Like a flail, like a whale, 

Like an ass, like a glass 
Whose image is constant to no man; 

Like a shower, like a flower, 

Like a fly, like a pie, 

Like a pea, like a flea, 

Like a thief, like in brief, 
She's like nothing on earth but a woman! 



TNITTING is the maid o' the kitchen, Milly,| 
Doing nothing sits the chore boy, Billy; 
" Seconds reckoned, 

Seconds reckoned; 


Imitative Harmony 

Every minute, 
Sixty in it. 
Milly, Billy, 
Billy, Milly, 
Tick-tock, tock-tick, 
Nick-knock, knock-nick, 
Knockety-nick, nickety-knock," 
Goes the kitchen clock. 

Closer to the fire is rosy Milly, 
Every whit as close and cozy, Billy; 
"Time's a-flying, 
Worth your trying; 
Pretty Milly 
Kiss her, Billy! 
Milly, Billy, 
Billy, Milly, 
Tick-tock, tock-tick, 
Now now, quick quick! 
Knockety-nick, nickety-knock," 
Goes the kitchen clock. 

Something's happened, very red is Milly, 

Billy boy is looking very silly; 

"Pretty misses, 

Plenty kisses; 

Make it twenty, 

Take a plenty. 

Billy, Milly, 

Milly, Billy, 

Right left, left right, 

That's right, all right, 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Knockety-nick, nickety-knock," 
Goes the kitchen clock. 

Weeks gone, still they're sitting, Milly, Billy; 
Oh, the winter winds are wondrous chilly! 
"Winter weather, 
Close together; 
Wouldn't tarry, 
Better marry. 
Milly, Billy, 
Billy, Milly, 
Two one, one two, 
Don't wait, 'twon't do, 
Knockety-nick, nickety-knock," 
Goes the kitchen clock. 

Winters two have gone, and where is Milly? 
Spring has come again, and where is Billy? 
"Give me credit, 
For I did it; 
Treat me kindly, 
Mind you wind me. 
Mister Billy, 
Mistress Milly, 
My O, O my, 
By-by, by-by, 

Nickety-knock, cradle rock," 
Goes the kitchen clock. 

John Vance Cheney. 


Imitative Harmony 


OH, the fisherman is a happy wight! 
He dibbles by day, and he sniggles by night. 
He trolls for fish, and he trolls his lay 
He sniggles by night, and he dibbles by day. 
Oh, who so merry as he! 
On the river or the sea ! 
Eels, and higgling 
Over the price 
Of a nice 

Of fish, twice 
As much as it ought to be. 

Oh, the fisherman is a happy man! 
He dibbles, and sniggles, and fills his can! 
With a sharpened hook, and a sharper eye. 
He sniggles and dibbles for what comes by. 
Oh, who so merry as he! 
On the river or the sea! 



Chub, and quibbling 

Over the price 

Of a nice 


Of fish, twice 

As much as it ought to be. 

F. C. Burnand. 


A Whimsey Anthology 


SEZ Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"Bedad, yer a bad un! 
Now turn out yer toes! 
Yer belt is unhookit, 
Yer cap is on crookit, 
Ye may not be dhrunk, 
But, be jabers, ye look it! 
Wan two! 
Wan two! 

Ye monkey-faced divil, I'll jolly ye through! 
Wan two! 
Time! Mark! 
Ye march like the aigle in Cintheral Parrk!" 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"A saint it ud sadden 
To dhrill such a mug! 
Eyes front! ye baboon, ye! 
Chin up! ye gossoon, ye! 
Ye've jaws like a goat 
Halt! ye leather-lipped loon, ye! 
Wan two! 
Wan two ! 

Ye whiskered orang-outang, I'll fix you! 
Wan two ! 
Time! Mark! 
Ye've eyes like a bat! can ye see in the dark?" 

[ 252] 

Imitative Harmony 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"Yer figger wants padd'n' 
Sure, man, ye've no shape! 
Behind ye yer shoulders 
Stick out like two boulders; 
Yer shins is as thin 
As a pair of pen-holders! 
Wan two! 
Wan two! 

Yer belly belongs on yer back, ye Jew! 
Wan two! 
Time! Mark! 
I'm dhry as a dog I can't shpake but I bark!" 

S(/ Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"Me heart it ud gladden 
To blacken your eye. 
Ye're gettin* too bold, ye 
Compel me to scold ye, 
'Tis halt! that I say, 
Will ye heed what I told ye ? 
Wan two! 
Wan two! 

Be jabers, I'm dhryer than Brian Boru! 
Wan two! 
Time! Mark! 
What's wur-ruk for chickens is sport for the lark!' 1 

Sez Corporal Madden to Private McFadden: 
"I'll not stay a gaddin', 
Wid dagoes like you! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

I'll travel no farther, 
I'm dyin' for wather; 
Come on, if ye like, 
Can ye loan me a quather? 
Ya-as, you 
What, two ? 

And ye'll pay the potheen ? Ye're a daisy! Whurroo! 
You'll do! 
Whist! Mark! 
The Rigiment's flattered to own ye, me spark!" 

Robert William Chambers. 


NO sun no moon! 
No morn no noon 
No dawn no dusk no proper time of 


No sky no earthly view 

No distance looking blue 

No road no street no "t'other side the way"- 

No end to any Row 

No indications where the Crescents go 

No top to any steeple 

No recognitions of familiar people 

No courtesies for showing 'em 
No knowing 'em! 

No travelling at all no locomotion, 
No inkling of the way no notion 

"No go" by land or ocean 


Imitative Harmony 

No mail no post 

No news from any foreign coast 
No park no ring no afternoon gentility 

No company no nobility 
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, 

No comfortable feel in any member 
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, 
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, 


Thomas Hood. 


DOE, doe! 
I shall dever see her bore! 
Dever bore our feet shall rove 

The beadows as of yore! 
Dever bore with byrtle boughs 

Her tresses shall I twide 
Dever bore her bellow voice 

Bake bellody with bide! 
Dever shall we lidger bore, 
Abid the flow'rs at dood, 
Dever shall we gaze at dight 
Upon the tedtder bood! 

Ho, doe, doe! 

Those berry tibes have flowd, 
Ad I shall dever see her bore, 
By beautiful! by owd! 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Ho, doe, doe! 

I shall dever see her bore, 
She will forget be id a bonth, 

(Host probably before) 
She will forget the byrtle boughs, 

The flow'rs we plucked at dood, 
Our beetigs by the tedtder stars, 

Our gazigs at the bood. 
Ad I shall dever see agaid 

The Lily and the Rose; 
The dabask cheek! the sdowy brow! 

The perfect bouth ad dose! 
Ho, doe, doe! 

Those berry tibes have flowd 
Ad I shall dever see her bore, 

By beautiful! by owd!! 

H. Cholmondeley-PennelL 


CHILLY Dovebber with his boadigg blast 
Dow cubs add strips the beddow add the 


Eved October's suddy days are past 
Add Subber's gawd! 

I kdow dot what it is to which I cligg 

That stirs to sogg add sorrow, yet I trust 
That still I sigg, but as the liddets sigg 
Because I bust. 


Imitative H armony 

Add dow, farewell to roses add to birds, 

To larded fields and tigkligg streablets eke; 
Farewell to all articulated words 
I faid would speak. 

Farewell, by cherished strolliggs od the sward, 

Greed glades add forest shades, farewell to you; 
With sorrowing heart I, wretched add forlord, 
Bid you achew!!! 



(By a Stuttering Lover) 

THAVE found out a gig-gig-gift for my fuf-fuf- 

I have found where the rattlesnakes bub- 

Will you co-co-come, and I'll show you the bub- 
And the lions and tit-tit-tigers at fuf-fuf-feed. 

I know where the co-co-cockatoo's song 

Makes mum-mum-melody through the sweet vale ; 

Where the mum-monkeys gig-gig-grin all the day 

Or gracefully swing by the tit-tit-tit-tail. 


A IVhimsey Anthology 

You shall pip-play, dear, some did-did-delicate joke 
With the bub-bub-bear on the tit-tit-top of his 

But observe, 'tis forbidden to pip-pip-poke 

At the bub-bub-bear with your pip-pip-pink 
pip-pip-pip-pip-parasol ! 

You shall see the huge elephant pip-pip-play, 
You shall gig-gig-gaze on the stit-stit-stately 


And then, did-did-dear, together we'll stray, 
To the cage of the bub-bub-blue-faced bab-bab 

You wished (I r-r-remember it well, 

And I lul-lul-loved you the m-m-more for th 


To witness the bub-bub-beautiful pip-pip-pel- 
ican swallow the 1-1-live little fuf-fuf-fish ! 





was a composer named Liszt, 
; Who from writing could never desiszt; 
He made Polonaises, 
Quite worthy of praises, 
And now that he's gone, he is miszt. 

Another composer named Haydn, 
The field of Sonata would waydn; 

He wrote the "Creation," 

Which made a sensation. 
And this was the work which he daydn. 

A modern composer named Brahms, 
Caused in music the greatest of quahms, 

His themes so complex 

Every critic would vex, 
From symphonies clear up to psahms. 

An ancient musician named Gluck 
The manner Italian forsuck: 

He fought with Piccini, 

Gave way to Rossini, 
You can find all his views in a buck. 



A Whimsey Anthology 


A WANDERING tribe, called the Siouxs, 
J-\ Wear moccasins, having no shiouxs, 
They are made of buckskin, 
With the fleshy side in, 
Embroidered with beads of bright hyiouxs 

When out on the war-path, the Siouxs 
March single file never by tiouxs 

And by "blazing" the trees 

Can return at their ease, 
And their way through the forests ne'er liouxs. 

All new-fashioned boats he eschiouxs, 
And uses the birch-bark caniouxs; 

These are handy and light, 

And, inverted at night, 
Give shelter from storms and from dyiouxs. 

The principal food of the Siouxs 
Is Indian maize, which they briouxs 

And hominy make, 

Or mix in a cake, 
And eat it with fork, as they chiouxs. 





N old couple living in Gloucester 

Had a beautiful girl, but they loucester; 
She fell from a yacht, 
And never the spacht 
Could be found where the cold waves had 


An old lady living in Worcester 

Had a gift of a handsome young rorcester; 

But the way that it crough, 

As 'twould never get through, 
Was more than the lady was uorcester. 

At the bar in the old inn at Leicester 
Was a beautiful bar-maid named Heicester; 

She gave to each guest 

Only what was the buest, 
And they all, with one accord, bleicester 



A YOUNG lady sings in our choir 
Whose hair is the color of phoir, 
But her charm is unique, 
She has such a fair chique, 
It is really a joy to be nhoir. 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Whenever she looks down the aisle 
She gives me a beautiful smaisle, 

And of all of her beaux, 

I am certain she sheaux 
She likes me the best all the whaisle. 

Last Sunday she wore a new sacque, 
Low cut at the front and the bacque. 

And a lovely bouquet 

Worn in such a cute wuet 
As only few girls have the knacque. 

Some day, ere she grows too antique, 
In marriage her hand I shall sique; 

If she's not a coquette, 

Which I'd greatly regruette, 
She shall share my $6 a wique. 




H, King of the fiddle, Wilhelmj, 
If truly you love me just tellmj; 
Just answer my sigh 
By a glance of your eye, 
Be honest, and don't try to sellmj. 

With rapture your music did thrillmj; 
With pleasure supreme did it fillmj, 
And if I could believe 
That you meant to deceive 
Wilhelmj, I think it would killmj. 

Robert J. Burdette 
[ 262 ] 



A SPORTY young man in St. Pierre 
> ^ Had a sweetheart and oft went to sierre. 
She was Gladys by name, 

And one time when he came 
Her mother said: "Gladys St. Hierre." 

A globe-trotting man from St. Paul 
Made a trip to Japan in the faul. 

One thing he found out, 

As he rambled about, 
Was that Japanese ladies St. Taul. 

A guy asked two jays at St. Louis 

What kind of an Indian the Souis. 
They said: "We're no en- 
Cyclopedia, by hen!" 

Said the guy: "If you fellows St. Whouis?" 

A bright little maid in St. Thomas 
Discovered a suit of pajhomas. 

Said the maiden: "Well, well! 

What they are I can't tell; 
But I'm sure that these garments St. Mhomas." 

Ferdinand G. Cbristgau. 



A Whims ey Anthology 


AID a bad little youngster named Beauchamp: 
"Those jelly-tarts how shall I reauchamp? 

To my parents I'd go, 

But they always say 'No/ 

No matter how much I beseauchamp." 

A very polite man named Hawarden 
Went out to plant flowers in his gawarden. 

If he trod on a slug, 

A worm, or a bug, 
He said: "My dear friend, I beg pawarden!" 

* * * 

There was a young fellow named Knollys, 
Who was fond of a good game of kbollys; 

He jumped and he ran, 

This clever young man, 
And often he took pleasant kstrollys. 

* * * 

A lady who lived by the Thames 
Had a gorgeous collection of ghames. 

She had them reset 

In a large coronet 
And a number of small diadhames. 

A tutor who tooted the flute 
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot. 



Said the two to the tutor, 
"Is it harder to toot or 
To tutor two tooters to toot ? " 

A canner, exceedingly canny, 

One morning remarked to his granny, 

"A canner can can 

Anything that he can, 
But a canner can't can a can, can he?" 

There was a young fellow named Tait, 
Who dined with his girl at 8. 08; 

But I'd hate to relate - 

What that fellow named Tait 
And his tete-k-tete ate at 8. 08 ! 

There was a young man of Typhoo 
Who wanted to catch the 2. 02, 

But his friend said, "Don't hurry 

Or worry or flurry, 
It's a minute or two to 2. 02." 

"There's a train at 4.04," said Miss Jenny, 
"Four tickets I'll take; have you any?" 

Said the man at the door, 
" Not four for 4. 04, 
For four for 4. 04 is too many!" 


A W 'him s ey A n t holo gy 

There was a nice fellow named Jenner, 
Who sang a phenomenal tenor, 

He had little to spend, 

So I often would lend 
The tenor a ten or a tenner. 

Carolyn Wells. 

There once was a Master of Arts 
Who was nuts upon cranberry tarts; 

When he'd eaten his fill, 

He was awfully ill, 
But he still was a Master of Arts. 

Cosmo Monkhouse. 

There once were some learned M.D.'s, 
Who captured some germs of disease, 
And infected a train, 
Which without causing pain, 
Allowed one to catch it with ease. 

Oliver Herford. 

There was a young lady of Lynn, 

Who was deep in original sin; 

When they said, "Do be good," 
She said, "Would if I could !" 

And straightway went at it ag'in. 




I'd rather have fingers than toes; 
I'd rather have ears than a nose; 

And as for my hair 

I'm glad it's all there, 
I'll be awfully sad when it goes. 

Gelett Burgess. 

There was a young fellow named Clyde; 
Who was once at a funeral spied. 

When asked who was dead, 

He smilingly said, 
"/ don't know, / just came for the ride!" 


There was a young lady of Truro, 
Who wished a mahogany bureau; 

But her father said, "Dod! 

All the men on Cape Cod 
Couldn't buy a mahogany bureau!" 


There was a young man of Ostend 
Who vowed he'd hold out to the end, 

But when halfway over 

From Calais to Dover, 
He done what he didn't intend 



A JVhimsey Anthology 

There was an Old Man in a tree 
Who was horribly bored by a bee; 

When they said, "Does it buzz?" 

He replied, "Yes, it does! 
It's a regular brute of a bee." 

Edward Lear. 

* * * 

There was an Old Man of St. Bees 
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp. 
When asked, "Does it hurt?" 
He replied, "No, it doesn't, 
But I thought all the while 'twas a hornet." 

W. S. Gilbert 

* * * 

There was an old man of the Rhine, 
When asked at what hour he would dine, 

Replied, "At eleven, 

Four, six, three and seven, 
And eight and a quarter of nine." 

* * * 

There was a young man of Laconia, 
Whose mother-in-law had pneumonia; 

He hoped for the worst, 

And after March first 
They buried her 'neath a begonia. 

* * * 

There was a young man of the cape 
Who always wore trousers of crepe; 

Whep asked, "Don't they tear?" 
He replied, "Here and there; 
But they keep such a beautiful shape." 



There was a young man of Fort Blainey, 
Who proposed to a typist named Janey;* 

When his friends said, "Oh, dear! 

She's so old and so queer!" 
He replied, "But the day was so rainy!" 






A, B, C C. S. Calverley ... 38 

Acrostic Sir John Dames ... 73 

Acrostic Charles Lamb .... 73 

Acrostic Bogart 74 

Acrostic Lewis Carroll .... 75 

Acrostic, An Anonymous .... 75 

Acrostic, An Lewis Carroll .... 76 

Acrostic, Double .... Anonymous .... 77 

Acrostic, Particular .... Thomas Jordan ... 78 

Acrostic, Peculiar A Valentine E. A . Poe 77 

Ad Mortem Anonymous . . . .170 

Adioux Among the Sioux . . Anonymous . . . . 16 

^Estivation Oliver Wendell Holmes . 187 

After Dilettante Concetti . . H.D.Traill . . . .216 

All the Same in the End . . Isaac Ross . . . .228 

Alphabet Verse Anonymous .... 66 

Alphabetical Wooing, An . . A nonymous ....51 

Ambiguous Lines .... Anonymous . . . .182 

Animal Alphabet, An . . . Anonymous .... 42 

Animal Alphabet, An . . . Edward Lear .... 43 
Appeal for Are to the Sextant of 

the Old Brick Meetinouse, A 

(By a gasper) .... Anonymous . . . .229 

Approach of Evening, The . . A nonymous .... 64 

Arab and his Donkey, An . . Anonymous .... 57 

Avoirdupois Anonymous . . . . 36 

BACCHANALIAN TOAST, A . . Robert Herrick . . .105 
Bait of the Average Fisherman H. C. Dodge .... 25 
Ballad of Ameighlia Maireigh, 

The Anonymous .... 9 

Ballad of the Canal .... Phoebe Gary . . . .222 

Ballade W. E. Henley . . . 161 

Beauties of English Orthog- 
raphy, The Anonymous .... 203 


A Whimsey Anthology 

Belagcholly Days .... Anonymous . . . 

Bells, The E.A.Poe . . . . 

Billet-Doux, A Anonymous . . . 

Bloom, Beauteous Blossoms . Sir Patrick Fells . 
Border Ballad, A .... Captain Harry Graham 

Bowled Anonymous ... 

Briefless Barrister, The . . John G. Saxe . . . 

Catalectic Monody, A ... Cruikshank's Omnibus 
Cataract of Lodore, The . . Robert Southey . . 

Caution, A Anonymous . . . 

Cautions Hugh Rhodes . . . 

Ce Meme Vieux Coon . . . Anonymous . . . 
Charade : Campbell .... Winthrop Mackworth 

Praed .... 

Chemist to his Love, The . Punch 

Concord Love-Song, A ... James Jeffrey Roche . 
Conjugal Conjugations . . A . W. Bellaw . . . 
Cosmic Egg, The .... Anonymous . . . 
Country Summer Pastoral, A . Anonymous . . . 
Court of Aldermen at Fish- 
mongers' Hall, The . . . Anonymous . . . 
Cow, The ABovinity. . . Anonymous . . . 

Cuckoo, The Old Rhyme . . . 

Cushat, The Alexander Montgomery 

DAYS IN THE MONTHS . . . Anonymous . . . 

Days of Birth Old Rhyme . . . 

Death of Little Nell . . . Charles Dickens . . 

Dirge Anonymous . . . 

Doneraile Litany, The . . . Patrick O' Kelly . . 

Double-Faced Creed, The . . Anonymous . . . 

Double Knock, The . . . Thomas Hood . . 

EARTH Anonymous . . . 

Echo John G. Saxe . . . 

Echoes Lewis Carroll . . . 

Enigma on Cod Anonymous . . . 

Enigma on the Letter H . . Catherine Fanshawe . 
Enigma on the Letter I ... Catherine Fanshawe . 
Equivocal Verses .... Anonymous . 


Index of Titles 

FALL OF EVE, THE .... Anonymous .... 63 
Famous Riddle, A . . . . A nonymous .... 85 
Fate of Nassan, The . . . Anonymous .... 65 
Fate of the Glorious Devil, The Anonymous . . . .175 

Ferry Tale, A Charles E. Carryl . . 149 

Fisherman's Chant, The . . F.C.Burnand . . .251 

Five Wines Robert H errick . . .137 

Flagon, The Pannard 23 

French Adage Anonymous . . . .100 

From Vivette's "Milkmaid" . Carolyn Wells . . .199 
Future of the Classics, The . . Anonymous . . . .143 

GEOGRAPHICAL LOVE SONG, A Anonymous .... 53 
Glass, The Pannard 24 

SICS H. J. DeBurgh . ..17 

H>urs of Sleep Anonymous .... 99 

Hundred Best Books, The . . Mostyn T. Pigott . . 106 

" Ini BINDEIN" .... Anonymous .... 192 

Incontrovertible Facts . . . Anonymous .... 64 

Indian Tribes Anonymous . . . . in 

Invitation to the Zoological 

Gardens, An Punch 257 

Isrufiddlestrings .... Anonymous . . . .219 

JAPANESQUE Oliver Her ford . . .208 

fob Anonymous . . . . 16 

focosaLyra Austin Dobson . . .145 

Jones's Ride .* . . . . McLandburgh Wilson . 34 

Joys of Marriage, The . . . Charles Cotton . . .119 

Justice to Scotland .... Punch 201 

KITCHEN CLOCK, THE . . . John Vance Cheney . . 248 

LADY MOON Christina G. Rossetti . . 96 

Lay of the Deserted Influenzaed H. Cholmondeley-Pennell 255 
Letter H's Protest to the Cock- 
neys, The Mr.Skeat 81 

Life Anonymous . . . .172 

Limerick Cosmo M onkhouse . . 266 

Limerick Oliver Her ford ... 266 

[275 ] 

A Whimsey Anthology 


Limerick ' Gelett Burgess . . .267 

Limerick Edward Lear .... 268 

Limerick W.S.Gilbert .... 268 

Limericks Carolyn Wells . . . 264 

Limericks Anonymous . 266, 267, 268 

Little Boys take Warning . . Anonymous .... 28 

Little Star, The Anonymous . . . .214 

Lines on Rose Charles Battell Loomis . 138 

London Bells Anonymous . . . . 115 < 

Lovelilts Anonymous .... 60 

Love's Moods and Senses . . Anonymous .... 5 


Man of Words, A .... Anonymous .... 

Memorandums Charles E. Carryl . . 

Mice, The Lewis Carroll .... 

Midsummer Madness . . . Anonymous .... 

Mighty Must, The .... W.S.Gilbert .... 

Monorhymed Alphabet . . Anonymous .... 

Monorhymed Alphabet . . Mortimer Collins . . . 

Musical Ass, The .... Tomaso de Yriarte 

MyGenevieve Anonymous .... 

My Madeline Anonymous .... 

My Manx Minx Orlando Thomas Dobbin 

NERVE THY SOUL .... Anonymous .... 
New- Year's Gift for Shrews, A . Anonymous .... 

No I Thomas Hood . . . 

Nocturnal Sketch, A . . . Thomas Hood . . . 

Nursery Gardening . . . . N. M 

Nursery Rhyme, A .... Anonymous .... 


O D V Anonymous . 

O I C Anonymous 

Old Adage Anonymous . . . 

Old Riddle Anonymous 

Old Saw Anonymous . . . 

On the Street Anonymous ... 

One Week Carolyn Wells . . . 120! 

Optimism N. M 2i2| 

Original Lamb, The . . . Tid-bits aifl 


Index of Titles 

Original Love Story, An 


O-U-G-H. A Fresh Hack at an 

Old Knot 

Out of Sight, Out of Mind . . 

Anonymous .... 7 

Anonymous . . . . 13 

Charles Battett Loom is . 14 
Barnaby Googe . . .169 
Anonymous . . . . 15 

PALINDROME LINES . . . Anonymous .... 95 

Palindromes H. Campkin .... 93 

Panegyric on the Ladies . . Anonymous . . . .181 

Pearl of Palencia, The . . . Walter Parke . . . . u 

Perfect Greyhound, The . . Old Rhyme .... 97 

Peter Piper Anonymous . . . .123 

Philosophic Advice .... Anonymous .... 102 

Philosophy Anonymous .... 65 

Piazza Tragedy, A .... Eugene Field . . . .215 

Pitcher of Mignonette, A . . H.C.Bunner . . .160 form, The Anonymous .... 180 

Poetry and the Poet . . . H . C. Bunner . . .223 

Prevalent Poetry .... Anonymous .... 260 

Procuratores Anonymous .... 72 

Prognostications .... Anonymous .... 99 

QILERITUR Rudyard Kipling . . 71 

"Oueries" W.Stanford .... 8 

REASONS FOR DRINKING . . Dr. Henry Aldrich . . 104 

Ki-rniit, The Robert William Chambers 252 

Remember Judy 166 

Rhyme for Musicians, A . E. Lemke 109 

Rhyme for Tipperary, A . Dr . Fitzgerald . .129 

Right Sort of a Fellow, The Anonymous . . . 102 

Roman Nose, The . . . Merrie England . .128 
Romantic Recollections. . Henry S.Leigh . .61 

Rondeau Leigh Hunt . . . 166 

Rondeau, The Austin Dobson . .156 

Rondelay, A Peter A.M. otteux . .163 

Roundel, The A.C.Swinburne . . 156 

Royalist Lines Anonymous . . . 184 

Rule of Three, A .... Wallace Rice . . . 104 

Ruling Power, The .... Thomas Hood . .126 

Russo-Turkish War, The . . Anonymous . . . 63 


A Whimsey Anthology 


SERIOUS LOVE SPELL, A . . Anonymous .... 261 
Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe . H. C. Bunner . . . 19 
Sheridan's Calendar . . . Anonymous .... 103 
Short Musical Histories . . Anonymous .... 250 
Siege of Belgrade, The . . . Anonymous . . . 37 

Signs of Rain Edward Jenner . . .112 

Similes Anonymous . . . . 113 

Simple English Ray Clarke Rose . . .124 

"Soldier, Rest!" .... Robert J . Burdette . . 202 
Some Saintly Cities .... Ferdinand G. Christgau . 263 

Song Addison 185 

Song for a Cracked Voice . . Wallace Irwin . . .150 
Song of Sorrow, A .... Charles Battell Loomis . 227 
Song of the Decanter . . . Anonymous .... 22 
Song of the Kettle .... Charles Dickens . . . 154 
Song of the &, A .... Anonymous .... 58 
Sonnet on the Sonnet . . . James Y.Gibson . . .164 
Sonnet to a Clam .... JohnG.Saxe . . . . 165 ; 

Sonnet to Order H . C. Bunner . . .164. 

Spelling Reform .... Anonymous . . . .210 

Stegomyia, The Anonymous .... 27 

Sunday Fisherman The . . A . W. Bellaiv . ... 54 
Susan Simpson Anonymous . . . . 69 '.' 

TALE OF A MOUSE, THE . . Lewis Carroll .... 29 
Telegram Anagrammatised, A Dr. John Abernethy . .91 
Tema Con Variazioni . . . Lewis Carroll . . . . 158 } 

Thatcher, The Anonymous . . . . 123 I 

'Tis Ever Thus R. K. Munkittrick . .no 

To Mrs. Thrale on her Thirty- 
fifth Birthday .... Boswell 128 j 

To My Nose Alfred A. Forrester . .209 

TotheFair"Come-Outer" . Anonymous . . . .190] 

Topographical Anonymous .... 261 j 

Travesty of Miss Fanshawe's 

Enigma Horace Mayhew ... 80 

Triolet Paul T.Gilbert . . .159 

Triolet, The W. E. Henley . . . 159 ] 

Triolet, The Austin Dob son . . . 160 j 

Triolet, A Cubic .... Anonymous .... 36 
Triolets Ollendorffiens . . . J. K. Stephen . . . . 200 .i 

Trip to Paris, A James Smith .... 146 

Twiner, The Dr.Wallis . . . .122 


Index of Titles 

Two Apple-Howling Songs . Anonymous .... 98 
Type of Beauty, A .... Anonymous .... 26 

UNCORDIER Attain Chartier . . . 122 

Under the Trees .... C.S.Calverley . . .125 
Unsolved Enigma, An ... Anonymous .... 83 

VERY FELIS-ITOUS .... Green Kendrick . . .186 

Villanelle Waller W. Sleat ... 155 

Villanelle W.E.Henley . . .162 

Villanelle of Things Amusing . Gelett Burgess . . .157 

Villikens Richard Mansfield . . 198 


CONDUCTED," THE . . . H.C.Bunner . . .167 

Waterloo Place H.Cholmondeley-Pennell 228 

What Hiawatha Probably Did Anonymous . . . .124 
What is a Woman Like ? 
Whatever is, is Right 

Whenceness of the Which 
Wild Sports in the East 

Anonymous .... 247 
Laman Blanchard . .178 

Anonymous .... 224 

Anonymous .... 189 

\\ilhelfnj Robert J. Burdette . . 262 

Wine Glass, The .... Anonymous .... 21 

YE CARPETTE KNYGHTE . . Lewis Carroll . . . .195 

ZEALLESS XYLOGRAPHER, THE Mary Mapes Dodge . . 52 
Zoology Punch 236 





A Telegram Anagrammatised 91 


Song 185 


Reasons for Drinking 104 


Conjugal Conjugations 3 

The Old Line Fence 31 

The Sunday Fisherman 54 


Whatever is, is Right 178 

Boo ART 

Acrostic 74 


To Mrs. Thrale on her Thirty-fifth Birthday . .128 


Shake, Mulleary and Go-ethe 19 

A Pitcher of Mignonette 160 

Sonnet to Order 164 

The Wail of the "Personally Conducted" . . .167 

Poetry and the Poet 223 


"Soldier, Rest!" 202 

Wilhelmj 262 


Villanelle of Things Amusing 157 

Limerick 267 


The Fisherman's Chant 251 


A, B, C 38 

Under the Trees 125 


A Whimsey Anthology 


Palindromes 93 


The Tale of a Mouse v ... 29 

The Mice 30 

Acrostic 75 

An Acrostic 76 

Tema Con Variazioni 158 

Echoes 177 

Ye Carpette Knyghte 195 


Memorandums 41 

A Ferry Tale 149 


Ballad of the Canal 222 


The Recruit 252 


Un Cordier 122 


The Kitchen Clock 248 


Some Saintly Cities 263 


Monorhymed Alphabet 40 


' The Joys of Marriage 119 


Acrostic 73 


Half Hours with the Classics 17 


Death of Little Nell 152 

Song of the Kettle 154 


My Manx Minx 135 


Jocosa Lyra 145 

The Rondeau 156 j 

The Triolet . . 160 


Bait of the Average Fisherman 25 


Index of Auth or s 


The Zealless Xylographer 52 


Enigma on the Letter H 79 

Enigma on the Letter I 81 


Bloom, Beauteous Blossoms 68 


A Piazza. Tragedy 215 


A Rhyme for Tipperary 129 


To My Nose 209 


Sonnet on the Sonnet 164 


Triolet 159 


The Mighty Must 225 

Limerick 268 


Out of Sight, Out of Mind 169 


A Border Ballad 196 


The Triolet 159 

Ballade 161 

Villancllc 162 


Japanesque 208 

Limerick 266 


Five Wines 137 

A Bacchanalian Toast 105 


Estivation 187 


The Ruling Power 126 

A Nocturnal Sketch 140 

The Double Knock 142 

The Carelesse Nurse Mayd 196 

[ 285 ] 

A Whimsey Anthology 


No! 254 


Rondeau 166 


Song for a Cracked Voice . . . . . . . .150 


Signs of Rain 112 


Particular Acrostic 78 


Very Felis-itous 186 


Quaeritur 71 


Acrostic ......73 


An Animal Alphabet .........43 

Limerick 268 


Romantic Recollections 61 

LEMKE, E. \ 

A Rhyme fotMusicians 109 


O-U-G-H. A Fresh Hack at an Old Knot ... 14 

Lines on Rose 138 

A Song of Sorrow 227 


Villikens 198 


Travesty of Miss Fanshawe's Enigma .... 80 

Limerick 266 


The Cushat 70 


A Rondelay 163 , 


'Tis Ever Thus no 


Index of Authors 


The Doneraile Litany 132 


The Flagon 23 

The Glass 24 


The Pearl of Palencia 1 1 


Waterloo Place 228 

Lay of the Deserted Influenzaed 255 


The Hundred Best Books 106 


Peculiar Acrostic A Valentine 77 

The Bells 239 


Charade: Campbell 89 


Cautions 101 


A Rule of Three 104 


A Concord Love-Song 226 


Simple English 124 

Ross, ISAAC 

All the Same in the End 228 


Lady Moon 96 


Sonnet to a Clam 165 

Echo 183 

The Briefless Barrister 205 


An Unsolved Enigma 82 


The Letter H's Protest to the Cockneys . . . . 81 

Villanelle 155 


A Trip to Paris 146 


A Whimsey Anthology 


The Cataract of Lodore 24 


" Queries" 


Triolets Ollendorffiens 20 

Ode on the 45oth Anniversary Celebration at Eton . 23 


The Roundel 15 


After Dilettante Concetti 21- 


The Twiner 12. 


One Week i2< 

From Vivette's "Milkmaid" IQ( 

Limericks 26, 


Jones's Ride 3< 


The Musical Ass 12' 





JUL 30 1940 


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JUL 2 6-65 .? m 

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Ji; '' 23 194T 

ii: - ' .. . . 

MAY 12 1342 


MAY 23 

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LOAN Dt.r p i 

J5 Mar'52Ai APR 3107006 
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